


A Brazen Comet

by MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad), PhryneFicathon



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Modern AU, Phryne Ficathon 3, Undercover as a Couple, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/pseuds/MissingMissFisher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: In the midst of Australia’s burgeoning refugee crisis in 2017, Inspector Jack Robinson of the Australian Border Force agency has been assigned to go undercover to look into the case of a missing government staff member. What he didn’t expect was to be partnered with a mysterious civilian consultant during his investigation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladycobert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladycobert/gifts).



> I challenged myself to use all four of my prompts for my ficathon story, which I think I managed. For example, the title was inspired by the following prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _"Know thyself."_  
>  _It's attributed to Socrates, and I've been thinking of that a lot lately just generally. It could be used as a jumping off or as a quote in a fic, don't care._
> 
>  
> 
> This, in turn, led me to discover this motivating quote that I felt captured Phryne’s spirit so completely. It also reminded me of snippets I had heard from both Essie Davis and Nathan Page about what prompted them to go into acting, which I felt was apt for this story:
> 
> _“I have realized; it is during the times I am far outside my element that I experience myself the most. That I see and feel who I really am, the most! I think that's what a comet is like, you see, a comet is born in the outer realms of the universe! But it's only when it ventures too close to our sun or to other stars that it releases the blazing ‘tail’ behind it and shoots brazen through the heavens! And meteors become sucked into our atmosphere before they burst like firecrackers and realize that they're shooting stars!_  
>   
>  _That's why I enjoy taking myself out of my own element, my own comfort zone, and hurling myself out into the unknown. Because it's during those scary moments, those unsure steps taken, that I am able to see that I'm like a comet hitting a new atmosphere: suddenly I illuminate magnificently and fire dusts begin to fall off of me! I discover a smile I didn't know I had, I uncover a feeling that I didn't know existed in me... I see myself. I'm a shooting star. A meteor shower. But I'm not going to die out. I guess I'm more like a comet then. I'm just going to keep on coming back.”_  
>  ― ****C. JoyBell C.

“Good afternoon and warmest welcomes, sir!” The sound of purposeful footsteps echoing across the spacious lobby of the Grand Papua Hotel and Spa in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea stopped at the black marble reception counter. 

“Thank you, I believe I have a reservation booked,” the newly arrived guest’s voice rumbled as he placed his carry-on luggage down before clearing his throat. “It should be under the names of Jones. Archibald Jones.”

“Thank you, Mr Jones, just one moment as I take a look.” The clack of the main desk’s keyboard filled the ensuing silence as his reservation was being called up.

Archibald Jones, more regularly known as Inspector Jack Robinson of the Australian Border Force (ABF), cleared his throat again, glanced at his wristwatch, and quickly tabulated how long he’d been travelling. It was only around 1:30pm even though he had just taken the four hour flight in from Sydney after connecting from Melbourne. There had been an hour and a half layover in between his flights, but it had been a long week, and he was feeling anxious to get on with this latest assignment now that he had arrived. The nature of his job as a national investigative expert meant that he was used to travelling at the drop of a hat whenever a special investigation was required. These had been increasing over the past year or so since Jack had been invited to join the newly formed ABF agency following a merger of the Australian government’s immigration and border protection sectors in 2015. 

Jack Robinson had come highly recommended by the ABF’s Deputy Commissioner George Sanderson, who still thought very highly of the hard-working and loyal young man even if he could no longer regard him as his son-in-law. There were some who viewed Inspector Robinson’s selection and induction into the ABF with speculation due to his close connection to the current deputy commissioner. Jack himself could care less about this latest stream of gossip after being hounded by the media’s limelight following his former wife’s recent engagement to the billionaire shipping magnate, Sidney Fletcher, only a few short months following their divorce. Normally a very private person, Jack wasn’t sure what to think when his loyal former constable, now Border Force Officer Hugh Collins, had shown him a few of the posts and blogs flooding social media about Rosie’s upcoming wedding. He was even more surprised to find Facebook fan groups dedicated to him and heralding the fact he was now one of Melbourne’s most eligible bachelors! 

Shaking his head slightly as though to rid himself of this latest bother, Jack tried to focus on his current case instead. The Border Force’s top ranking officer, Commissioner Hall, himself had called Jack that very morning from his direct, secure line. 

“Clear your schedule, Jack, you’re going undercover. The itinerary and exec summary have just been sent to you via encrypted messaging as per usual. Due to the top security level of the case, you’ll be more fully briefed by our vetted civilian consultant who will be assisting you with the case upon arrival. I hope I don’t have to spell out that this is a special assignment, Robinson, straight from the PM.” 

Jack already had an idea of the serious nature of the request, but learning that it had been requested by the nation’s Prime Minister himself wasn’t too much of a surprise. Many of his current and former colleagues from the Victorian Police Force had been spending the better part of the week dealing with major civilian protests throughout Canberra, Melbourne, Sydney, and other parts of the country as a result of the government’s decisions to pull all staff from the refugee detention centres on Manus Island. Human rights groups, the Australian Medical Association, even his elderly grandmother had taken to marching the streets demanding better treatment on behalf of the asylum seekers. 

And due to the nature of his role, he was often seen as the enemy these days unfortunately, when in reality, he had joined the ABF in attempts to help protect society from the growing international threats to everyone’s security. Now, he had to travel to Papua New Guinea posing as a tourist in order to discover the whereabouts of a missing Australian citizen. Ms Vanessa Greenwood had been an advocacy manager at one of the women’s detention centres on Nauru, the other island where the government had been sending newly arrived refugees when she had failed to report for duty for three days in a row. The case was off the media radar since the government knew better than to throw more fuel onto the already heated political landscape. 

So, they were sending him in. Him and a “vetted civilian consultant” with “extensive human rights and humanitarian experience in some of the world’s most fragile contexts” as his briefing notes had described her. She was carrying out an independent assessment of the situation on behalf of a coalition of highly influential non-governmental organisations. She was also supposed to meet him at the hotel and continue his briefing. Due to the extra security measures, Jack knew not to expect his briefing email to include any name, description or any other traceable details as to who she was or how she would be making contact. Not that he needed one as he was soon to discover:

“Ah yes, you’re now booked into the Royal Orchid Suites since your wife had requested the one with the balcony and our best water view when she arrived yesterday,” the concierge informed him. Archibald suddenly ran a finger between the collar of his shirt and attempted to loosen his tie. The hotelier smiled professionally at his guest before handing over a small leather folder containing the suite key. 

“Your suite is on the penthouse level. I believe Mrs Jones has already ordered your late luncheon to be served on the rooftop patio. Would you like me to call the porter to assist with your bags so you can go straight up to her?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine, thank you,” Mr Jones replied fighting the urge to undo his tie completely as he bent over to pick up his case. “Oh, are there any messages for me?”

“Let me check for you, sir,” the staff member searched the desk quickly. “No, none since your wife last checked when she returned earlier from her shopping expedition.” 

“Ah, of course,” Archibald fought the extremely strong urge to roll his eyes. “Erm, excellent! Thank you again for your assistance.”

“We do hope that you and your wife will enjoy your stay, Mr Jones. Please do not hesitate to let us know should there be absolutely anything we can assist you with.”

After tilting his head into a nod meant to convey both his gratitude and farewell, Archibald Jones, turned and walked quickly towards one of three ornate lift doors opposite the front desk. A handsomely uniformed porter standing at attention quickly called the lift with the press of the button.

“Which room, sir?”

“Er, the Royal Orchid Suites please,” Archibald quickly recalled.

“Ah, you must be Mr Archie Jones?” the lift attendant enquired politely. “I had the pleasure of assisting your lovely missus with her luggage upon her arrival yesterday. You are a very lucky man, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Oh, I certainly am,” Mr Jones agreed, fighting to maintain his stoic expression, but unable to completely hide his sardonic tone with his comment. It didn’t matter much in the end since both were completely lost on his companion. One glance at the younger man’s sudden dream-like expression, and Archibald consigned himself to having met the latest devotee to his “wife’s” charms. 

His mobile phone suddenly dinged, which he hesitantly dug out of his trouser pocket. It was his personal one, a rather beat up iPhone 4 that barely updated anymore with its original SIM card. His more state-of-the-art one issued by the ABF was tucked into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Jack was one of those people who actually missed the days when a phone was simply a phone even when they were the size of a brick. Punching his code into the lock screen, he paused to take in his latest background photo. It was one he’d snapped of his prized vintage 1928 JDH two-cam Harley Davidson that he had been lovingly restoring when he wasn’t on duty. Even back then, this baby was capable of top speeds between 85 to 100 mph. He stopped drooling over the photo when the notification banner announcing he had a new message demanded his attention then, winking at him much like its sender.

_“Hello, Archie! Slip into something comfy, and come find me on the rooftop. The scenery is to die for, darling! Lots of love, Fern xxx”_

As though to make sure he was in no doubt, she had attached a selfie of herself blowing him a kiss whilst she was framed by a magnificent ocean view. She seemed to be wearing a rather stunning sea-green bikini. Even from the little he could see of it, which knowing her was probably the point, he could tell that it didn’t leave much else to the imagination.

“Yes, very lucky indeed,” he muttered to himself finally giving in and not bothering to hide the hint of exasperation inching across his tired features. 

It was going to be a bloody long assignment.


	2. Chapter 2

A soft, tropical breeze stirred the surface of the crystal clear swimming pool accessible only to those guests staying in the premium penthouse suites. The melodic sound of the impressive waterfall feature cascaded over the authentic volcanic rock formation at the corner of the pool where swimmers could pause behind the added privacy of the curtain that the falling water provided. The rooftop paradise’s lone guest had been enjoying the nook and basking in the welcomed shade before she had disappeared with a graceful dive into the inviting coolness where she remained submerged.

She often felt she did her best thinking under water and allowed herself to float as she looked up through the surface at the distorted images above. As an English aristocrat’s daughter, the Honourable Phryne Fisher had spent more than her fair share of time in similar exclusive pools at much more opulent hotels across the world. Sometimes alone, but more often than not, with at least one interesting companion to whittle away her time. In her career as a human rights activist and humanitarian expert, however, she had also visited and worked in some of the world’s most harrowing and forgotten wastelands. This was one of those extremely rare moments when both her worlds could conveniently intersect and she could merge her experiences under the guise of Mrs Fern Jones, glamourous art patron and collector. 

Normally, she would have been more than happy to conduct field work on her own with the remote assistance of her avid assistant, Dot Williams. But this time, she had been informed that her deployment would also require a high security government shadow from the Australian Border Force due to stringent policies and national security protocols. So, wasn’t it convenient that she happened to know a highly competent ABF Inspector whose name she may or may not have let slip during a recent, top secret stakeholder briefing?

She felt a shudder of anticipation ripple through her as she tried to imagine what Jack Robinson’s reaction would be after he worked out “the who” behind this unexpected assignment. Oh, he would be furious all right, and she more than looked forward to using that to her advantage. They had both worked enough cases and projects together for nearly a year now that had led to more frequent dinners and lingering night caps. As someone who never put much stock into the complications of long-term relationships, no one had become more surprised than she at how much she had come to value the constant presence of this seemingly stoic man in her life. 

Aside from one unexpected kiss that he still insisted had been for the sake of another joint investigation they had been working on several months ago, nothing more had ever taken place between them. At first, she had respected the fact that he had been working through the extended estrangement and eventual divorce from his boss’ daughter. Jack had not spoken much about it, and she had never pried, knowing he would share if and when he wanted to because she was the same with him. She had then given him some space (as in barely any) knowing that he had been dodging the press and society’s fascination over his ex’s extravagant engagement to a high- profile business tycoon. No stranger to tabloid hounds and the paparazzi herself, Phryne did what she could to protect him from the sometimes ludicrous claims of lower and social media. Even so, they had started sniffing about the fact that the inspector had been seen in frequent connection with the baron’s daughter and former UN celebrity ambassador. 

Gradually, they had become each other’s confidant for all manner of revelations, both professional, but increasingly, more of a personal nature. Apart from her best friend, Mac, Jack had become a trusted and safe reservoir of strength she could draw from and a strong pillar she had been able to lean or shelter against when the storms of life, past and present, sometimes buffeted a little too strongly. Although neither had ever come right out and spoken about the unique nature of their bond and relationship, she knew from their constant ability to communicate without words that it was something worth nurturing. 

Thus, Phryne secretly hoped that this current investigation away from their usual routine and prying eyes would allow him to loosen up somewhat. Of all the men she had ever had the pleasure (and unfortunately, some displeasure) of encountering, Jack Robinson had to be one with an annoyingly tight reign on the ocean of emotions and passions she knew flooded his heart and soul. And from the sips and increasingly longer draughts she was able to taste of this passion, Phryne Fisher was determined to plumb to the depths of it all. Perhaps to her own detriment. Although she would never admit that to anyone, least of all to him! And what better setting to do so than a luxurious holiday location where they had to pose as an adoring tourist couple with ample time and money to spend.

Satisfied with her thoughts, Phryne allowed her body to float gradually to the surface. She was about to right herself in order to brace her feet against the shallower bottom of the pool when she more felt than saw a large object splash into the water nearly on top of her. Suddenly, a vise-like feeling clamped about her torso from behind, and she felt herself being pulled out of the pool. She began to sputter and curse as her head broke through the surface and she instinctively slammed her elbow back against whoever it was that had dared to accost her this way.

“Bloody hell!” 

She instantly whirled about as she recognised that voice. 

“Ja...oomph!” 

Before she could finish her own surprised outburst, his lips locked onto hers and his arms once again tightened about her waist albeit with a different type of urgency. Once again employing his best technique for distracting her from blowing their cover, Jack also couldn’t help pouring out his relief at discovering that she hadn’t been drowning as the agitated pool side porter had thought. Once she had recovered from her initial indignation and discovered herself in Jack’s arms, Phryne didn’t waste a moment before eagerly wrapping her arms around his neck and offering her own reassurance that she had been absolutely fine. Eventually, they were forced to pause in order to draw in some oxygen into their poor lungs.

“Now that’s quite the greeting, Archie darling,” she purred against his cheek. “Although, I do hope you brought something else to wear apart from your fine, wool suit. Not that you’ll be needing much, if I’m to have my way.”

To Phryne’s delight, Jack blushed and tried to step back from her unsuccessfully due to the tight hold she still had on his neck. The inspector also suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of a swimming pool wearing his now drenched best suit with a bikini-clad Miss Fisher clinging to him like a mermaid to a rock.

“Ahem,” he tried clearing his throat as she began to loosen his soggy tie. “Well, my, er, _dearest,_ I did attempt to pack the essentials since I was so eager to rush here to be by your side.” 

He glanced to the side as the porter quickly approached bearing extremely fluffy towels and bathrobes.

“No matter, darling,” she replied breezily, making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt down to his waist coat. “I had the most splendid shopping expedition this morning and found you a whole collection of wonderful holiday bits. I can’t wait to see you model them for me.” 

She smiled wickedly at him knowing he couldn’t fully express the consternation that she read in his eyes at that moment.

“Let’s get you out of the rest of these wet things first,” she tugged on his hand and he reluctantly followed as she led him towards the marble steps leading up to the main sun deck.

“Lead the way, Mrs Jones.”


	3. Chapter 3

Fern Jones leaned forward and dramatically inhaled as the server lifted the shiny silver lid to reveal their lunch. 

“I knew you would be exhausted from your trip, darling, so I ordered a little of everything to start with,” she informed her husband with a genuinely-felt adoring smile. 

She could tell he was salivating at the feast being revealed before them. Reaching for a massive king prawn, she placed it along with a choice of selection of other finger foods including a customised order of sandwiches onto his plate before choosing a few for her own. Archie raised an eyebrow when she slowly licked each finger and then her lips before he picked up something resembling a miniature breadcrumb—encrusted pillow. Following her lead, he began to crunch slowly on a corner, and when the buttery lobster bisque melted on his tongue, he couldn’t help moaning in abject pleasure. At the heated spark that lit up in her eyes, he took his vengeance by taking another drawn out bite and sweeping his own lips and fingers with deliberation. They continued the rest of the meal in similar fashion with each bite and comment building up between them, hotter than the late afternoon sunlight warranted. 

By the time the server had returned to clear their plates, he couldn’t help but notice the hungry expressions that still lingered in the couple’s expression as they gazed at one another across the table. “Would madam or sir care for dessert?” he ventured to ask.

“Ahem, perhaps after we have a little break first?,” Mr Jones cleared his throat quickly just as Mrs Jones turned her dazzling smile towards the staff member who nodded as he continued to clear their lunch.

“Yes, perhaps something cold after we take a dip to cool ourselves off,” she agreed in a sultry tone as she rose gracefully to her feet and allowed her robe to slide off her lithe body onto her chair. “You must simply come see this delightful waterfall feature, Archie!”

“I can hardly wait, my dear,” Archie responded with a slight grin edging his upper lip as he pushed back his own chair and dutifully followed his wife towards the side of the pool closest to the large waterfall. 

Following his earlier dive into the pool, Mrs Jones had quickly dispatched the extremely apologetic porter to deliver Mr Jones’ luggage to their suite as well as to retrieve something more suitable for him to change into. She had then waited impatiently on a deck chair to see how her husband liked his newly selected swimwear, but he had kept his robe on after hastening away to change out of his soaked suit in one of the cabanas. She had then allowed him to retain his modesty throughout their lunch. But now, time was up, and she absolutely wasn’t going to allow him to continue hiding.

“You’re looking a tad warm, darling,” she commented innocently as they reached the pool’s edge. Before he could respond, she turned and yanked the sash on his robe and pulled it to release what she had been dying to confirm: that he filled out the new speedo she had just purchased for him rather nicely. “Last one in is a rotten mango!”

Archie sputtered from the subsequent splash that doused him after she had disappeared into the depths with a mighty cannon-ball manoeuvre. Wrenching off his now soaked robe, he dove into the water after her. He reached her just as she ducked under the cascading waterfall and followed her behind it to discover the nook that effectively hid them from the rest of the pool and deck. The noise from the falling water also protected their conversation from being overheard. As usual, she was several steps ahead, and he had to admit once again that he was impressed by her foresight.

“Impressive briefing location, Miss Fisher,” he admitted as he floated over towards where she was treading water. “Even if the attire for it leaves much to be desired.”

“But that’s the point, Jack,” she pouted at him before splashing up to him with several effortless strokes. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to his ear so she wouldn’t have to shout over the sounds of the waterfall. “I got you one in every colour just in case. Besides, we can’t have anyone thinking we have something to hide, can we?”

Somehow, she had managed to back him into a crevice so that he now knew what it meant to be caught between a rock and a hard place. He gripped the edges of the rock formation tightly with one hand whilst bringing up his other arm to anchor her around the waist whilst steeling himself against the feel of her body as it bobbed up and down against his. Anyone who happened to witness them would simply see a couple of guests making the most of their private poolside paradise, and hopefully, not realising that they were trying to unravel an investigation with global security ramifications.

“Certainly not whilst we’re carrying out a special assignment from the PM himself,” Jack acknowledged.

“Hmm, yes, about that…” she blinked up at him with an angelic expression that immediately made him tense up. “He may have had some, shall we say, strong prompting from a certain someone.”

“Do I even want to know?” Jack muttered, shaking his head slightly, which drew her attention to how his hair was curling adorably and flopping into his eyes. Phryne couldn’t resist reaching up to brush them aside before her expression sobered.

“Even without her impressive humanitarian record, Vanessa Greenwood was one of those extra special people that Arthur really loved after first meeting her,” Phryne stated matter-of-factly. “She met him and Aunt P when she had agreed to come stay with me during a much-needed break after the tsunami had devastated Aceh.”

Jack tightened his hold on her imperceptibly then as his initial frustration evaporated and he registered the full impact of what she was sharing with him. He knew that Phryne’s cousin, Arthur Stanley, who had been born with severe mental and physical disabilities, had recently passed away. The inspector had always thought him a lovely chap during their encounters when he had found himself called out or invited to the Stanley residence. He had been touched by how Phryne’s formidable aunt had insisted on caring for her son at home instead of shipping him off to some facility or home, which she could have well-afforded to do. He also knew that Miss Fisher had shared a deep bond with her cousin, and though she had never spoken much about it, his passing had also impacted her deeply.

“Arthur was always an excellent judge of character,” he affirmed running his hand up and down Phryne’s back in comfort. “It’s little wonder Mrs Stanley wouldn’t hesitate to pull out the punches for anyone she knew he held in high regard. I hope she has been keeping well in spite of everything, and with you being away right now.”

Phryne pulled back slightly so she could look into Jack’s eyes before giving him a quick squeeze in gratitude. She was always so grateful at his ability to understand her and know exactly what to say right when she needed it. 

“Yes, I made sure to leave Cec and Bert strict instructions to check in on her until my return. I think Bert may have even moved into the coach house in the meantime so he can be onsite if she needs anything.” She could always count on her dear cabbie and handymen friends to get a job done, especially since Bert and her aunt had forged a strong friendship since Arthur had died. Aunt Prudence could be stubborn, especially in her grief, but unexpectedly, it was gruff Bert of all people who had been able to reach through to her.

“Don’t tell them or I’ll lose my street cred with them,” Jack admitted. “But, I think she couldn’t be in better hands in your absence.”

Again, she smiled gratefully at him before letting him go and floating on her back, reaching out to anchor herself by holding onto his elbow. He waited patiently, kicking out his feet and laying his head back against the rock formation behind him as he sensed the shift in their conversation. 

Phryne looked up at him as she gathered her thoughts. She especially wanted for him to understand why she had taken on this case, and needed him at her side in order to tackle it.

“Vanessa had been filling me in for months now about the situation at the detention centres. Both at the one she oversaw on Nauru and then what she knew of the ones on Manus, Jack.” 

He knew all too well what she was referring to, and that there was no use in denying it. The Australian Border Force had been formed several years ago partly in response to the ongoing issues that constantly arose as a result of the Australian government’s so-called “offshore processing” of tens of thousands of asylum seekers risking their lives and arriving to their shores by boat. The majority were refugees fleeing from the ongoing conflict in Syria and Iraq, many paying crazy sums of money to smugglers promising passage from Indonesia. He knew the reports inside out and regularly saw the stats of the hundreds who had lost their lives attempting the treacherous journey by sea. 

Unfortunately, he was also more than aware of his government’s attempts to toughen asylum policies several years ago by allowing the military to handle this influx of illegal immigrants. They had set up offshore processing camps where people were being detained as their asylum claims were being processed. Through his own sources, and what Miss Fisher and her colleagues never hesitated to update him about, the camps had become the focus of intense scrutiny by both domestic and international humanitarian and human rights groups. Every day, it seemed there were increasing reports of physical violence, murder, and, horrifically, that women and children were being sexually abused. Guards were being attacked or tortured, and medical care was nearly non-existent and resulting in an increase of both physio and mental issues skyrocketing.

Even Jack was appalled by the fact that military vessels had begun patrolling the sea and intercepting incoming boatloads of asylum seekers, sometimes towing the back to Indonesia or sending them away in inflatable lifeboats. He knew the rhetoric about how criminal gangs were taking advantage of refugees, and that the government had a duty to stop this. That was part of his job, to protect their borders from any type of threats to the Australian people. As the refugee crisis continued to loom, Jack did wonder how that justified turning away helpless and defenseless people. Or maybe, he was so used to hearing Phryne’s voice asking him that very question every time he saw her.

“When did you last hear from Ms Greenwood?”

“You know how I’ve been completing this other assessment for the humanitarian consortium. Van has been providing me with some invaluable frontline insight regarding the situation on Nauru since I haven’t been able to gain access to the island.”

“Right, because all government staff were being recalled from both detention centres.” 

“She last emailed me from her office at the detention centre on Nauru about five days ago. About the time when the majority of all staff and guards had pulled out. So, I didn’t think much of it when I didn’t hear from her again. But then, I received an odd text message from her only two days ago.”

“The one about the theatre? Here in Port Moresby?” He quickly recalled the key details from his briefing report because there weren’t many surrounding Ms Greenwood’s sudden disappearance.

“Yes, it wasn’t from her usual number. Then, she mentioned how she was eager for her date at the theatre for a production with lots of special effects followed by dinner at The Palms, the restaurant adjoining the Moresby Arts Theatre. How much she was looking forward to the lobster special especially.” 

“You’re certain she wasn’t just taking some extra leave time before returning to Melbourne?”

Phryne suddenly sprang upright again in the water, never losing her hold on his elbow, as she came to a realization. 

“Jack, she has a severe, life-threatening allergy to shellfish! And she’s always hated gimmicky type shows and productions.”

In response to her sudden movement and tone of voice, Jack instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist again as he quickly ran through the implications of what she had just told him with what he knew about the case.

“I trust your instincts, Miss Fisher, but her clues do seem a bit vague.”

“Jack, someone who lives and breathes for her work and absolutely refused to leave even after her team and everyone else had pulled out doesn’t disappear with no word. So wouldn’t you agree that it’s highly suspicious behaviour for her to then send me a gushing message about attending a gala event...and looking forward to eating something that would make her comatose?”

“The Palms Restaurant, you said? That’s also the same site where a woman of her description and several others not usually employed there were sighted and reported by some of our sources,” he informed her with a grimace. “One of our teams has been monitoring an alleged trafficking ring here. Drugs, illegal objects, mainly.”

“And now, humans too apparently. Then, it’s a good thing that Mr and Mrs Jones have a box reserved for the theatre this evening then,” Miss Fisher twirled a finger through one particularly stubborn curl on his forehead, trying to chase away the storm clouds gathering on his brow. “I know you appreciate vintage paraphernalia, Jack. What do you think about classical theatre? We’ll be attending a stage rendition to ‘The Broadway Melody.’”

“Hmm, that sounds suspiciously like a musical, Miss Fisher?”

“Very perceptive, darling! It’s one from the late 1920s, in fact. Simply fabulous era!” 

“Indeed,” he couldn’t help grinning at her contagious enthusiasm. “I could very much envision you as a carefree flapper wreaking havoc from one speakeasy to another.”

“How I wish!” She had a wistful glint in her eyes at the thought of being able to experience even a smidgen of the Roaring Twenties. “For now, I’ll have to make do with this musical tonight. Did I mention that I learnt all the songs when I was in am-dram during boarding school? It’s going to be fabulous!” 

“Seriously? Why couldn’t it have been Shakespeare?”

“They only just finished ‘Twelfth Night’ actually,” she told him in a cheeky tone before pulling herself closer and giving him a sympathetic peck on the cheek. “Cheer up, darling, our dessert has just arrived. Shall we?” 

She then deliberately slid herself against him before disappearing beneath the water and heading towards the waterfall. Jack simply groaned in response before diving below the water after her. 

Even the thought of dessert wasn’t able to detract him from the long, tortuous evening ahead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super happy when I realised I could work in another one of my assigned ficathon prompts into this chapter. It was to write about the unique bond between Bert and Aunt Prudence, and how that came about and progressed following Arthur’s death. I couldn’t do it justice here, but hope this mention was still worth it!
> 
> Also, for anyone who might be interested, there is an actual Moresby Arts Theatre in Port Moresby although I only borrowed its name for my fic. Just in case anyone wasn’t sure, Phryne was referring to the amateur dramatics, also known as “am-dram,” during her stint at boarding school, which she no doubt would have thrived at!


	4. Chapter 4

The lights suddenly dimmed before focusing on the lone couple who had appeared on the centre of the stage poised in position for the next scene. The music from the live orchestra softened dramatically, signalling the start of the musical’s feature song, “You Were Meant for Me,” which the lead male actor began to croon.

_Life was a song_  
_You came along_  
_I lay awake the whole night through_

Phryne couldn’t help glancing to her left to gauge Jack’s reaction at yet another score. In spite of his earlier grumblings, he had been playing his part remarkably well the rest of the day following their lunch. This evening, he certainly looked the part of the debonair businessman decked out in his tuxedo with his dazzling wife on his arm, more than ready to conquer their night out on the town.

_If I but dared_  
_To think you cared_  
_This is what I'd say to you_

Feeling her gaze, he tilted his head towards her, an undefinable, yet intense expression on his arresting features. He lifted his eyebrows in question, and when she shook hers slightly to indicate she didn’t have a query, he put down the opera glasses he had been playing with and lifted a long finger gently beneath her chin.

_You were meant for me_  
_And I was meant for you_

“Did I mention how mesmerizing you are tonight, Mrs Jones?” His eyes seemed to drink in the vision she commanded in her dark purple velvet, asymmetrically-designed gown with dropped waist and clinging skirt that flourished out at the bottom in a slight flounce. She loved the feel of it against her skin and legs. Her bare arms were wrapped in a snowy white, faux fur wrap. She gathered it now tightly to herself as Jack’s whispered breath across her cheek sent jolts up and down her spine. She found that she was especially enjoying this playful side to her normally solemn inspector (at least, the side that he tried to show to the rest of the world). If she had been privy to this particular channel for extracting his personality before, she would have concocted a reason for them to go undercover together much sooner than this.

_Nature fashioned you and when she was done_  
_You were all those good things rolled into one_

“You’re certainly turning heads tonight yourself, Archie.”

It was true, although as usual, Jack was oblivious to the attention he effortlessly attracted. This evening, however, Phryne noticed how many a set of eyes had glued themselves to him since they had entered the theatre doors earlier. The majority belonged to nearly every other woman in the vicinity most likely. Just as she couldn’t help holding on a little tighter than merited to his elbow as they had mingled with the crowd, sipped their pre-show champagne, and then followed the usher to their private box. Even now, she trailed her fingers up and down the inner sleeve of his finely-tailored evening jacket with a slightly proprietorial air.

“Only because you’re by my side,” he stated without any hint of the usual banter in his tone. He then moved his arm swiftly in order to grasp her hand and still her movements by intertwining her fingers through his.

_You're like a plaintive melody_  
_That never lets me be_

“Which you used to complain about as I recall some of our first cases together,” she couldn’t help teasing.

_But I'm content_  
_The angels must have sent_  
_You and they meant_  
_You just for me_

“You mean, _my_ cases that you insinuated yourself into, don’t you?” He had returned his attention back to the stage, but she could tell by his half-smile that this fact no longer bothered him, if they ever really had to begin with. As though to reassure her of his teasing, he gave her hand a soft squeeze before commenting on the elaborate dance choreography taking place below them. She wondered if he had any idea of the reaction he was eliciting from her body as a result of his thumb caressing the back of her hand.

As the chorus chimed in to repeat the lyrics of the simple song, Phryne tried to tamper down the faint fluttering within her as the saccharine words reverberated through her mind and deep down inside. It was only a silly, fluffy song. It was only Jack holding her hand. Which he had never done intentionally like this before. Ever.

Even in spite of how she always ramped up her tactile tendencies around him, both intentionally and more often than not, more automatically, Jack had never made any such outright gesture towards her. Except for that one diversionary kiss. No, now make that two “lip locks of distraction” when they had been working a case. Maybe that was the clincher. Maybe she was getting herself all worked up over nothing. He was simply playing up their cover, which she had been hoping to take advantage of anyway.

Oh, why did he have to go and make everything so damn confusing, like he always did? Phryne wiggled slightly in her seat at the uncomfortable thoughts jostling about in her mind. This was ridiculous. Why should she feel so bothered over nothing? She had been doing much worse to him earlier in the pool after all, and he had taken it all in stride with his usual stoicism. She was suddenly snatched from her thoughts when she was assailed by an especially strong whiff of his familiar aftershave and the slight brush of his lips that hovered near her ear.

“Phryne, are you all right?”

Why wouldn’t she be? This was Jack after all. One of the few people she allowed to get close to her. Someone whom she really liked and always felt comfortable with. That she had been trying to tease and seduce for the better part of a year. So, why was it that she was beginning to feel panicky at the sensation that his fingers were setting off as he stroked her hand and inner wrist. Her pulse began to skyrocket

_But I'm content_  
_The angels must have sent_  
_You and they meant_  
_You just for me_

The entire stage was alight now with every spotlight as the singing and music crescendoed.

_You just for me_

She had heard such a declaration before from her distant past. At first, they had been teasing phrases that had later turned into taunts and then threats accompanied by painful actions. By someone she never spoke of since, and certainly refused to even think about now. Someone who was as different from her current companion as night was from day. Someone she had had to file a restraining order against, and later testify in court to ensure he paid for what he had done to her, and would never lay a hand on anyone else again.

“Of course, darling,” she turned her head slightly so she could murmur her response into his ear even as she tugged for her hand, which he immediately released.

He didn’t say anything further and simply watched as she began to fan herself rapidly. She regretted her brusque actions, and this both annoyed and alarmed her because she had loved the feel of her hand against Jack’s. He would never do it again if he thought it bothered her. She didn’t want him to know how agitated she had become as a result. He wouldn’t have any idea why she was acting so ridiculously because of her upended feelings at the moment. This was not who she was anymore, someone who couldn’t cope with overwhelming emotions. She breathed deeply into her nose and out through her mouth.

Then, Jack gently placed a hand onto her back and began to rub it slowly as she regained some equilibrium.

“Do you want to go?” He quietly enquired. She shook her head quickly.

“I’m OK, Jack, it’s getting a bit too warm in here, that’s all. I’ll just go for a quick bout of fresh air, and maybe visit the ladies before the inevitable queues form during the intermission,” she babbled.

“Of course,” he nodded, concern flooding his eyes, though his voice remained steady as usual. “Just text if you need anything, or change your mind and want to take off. I won’t be too disappointed.”

“Will do,” she promised him. “Don’t get too worried if I’m a few minutes later. I may take a little saunter on my way back.”

She rose and made her way towards the door before turning her head to look over her shoulder at him coyly. “Besides, I shouldn’t dawdle because that strawberry blonde from the box across the theatre has been watching you more than the stage all evening. She might think this is her chance to make her move.”

“What blonde…” he started to ask, but she had vanished in a puff of her latest French eau de toilette.

*-*-*

After she finished powdering her nose, Phryne added another coat of her signature lipstick smacking her lips together in satisfaction before exiting the ladies’ room. Instead of turning towards the steps that would lead her back to their box, she nonchalantly checked the corridors and crept down a quiet passageway in the direction of the restaurant. She passed a darkened, unmarked dressing room, and would have paid it no mind except for the sound of slight rustling that drew her attention. Instinctively opening her clutch so she could easily reach her mace spray, she slowed her steps and rose up on her toes to reduce the echo from her new art-deco inspired Fluevog heels. Inching closer to the door frame, her heart leapt into her throat and she bit back from crying out when something burst out suddenly from the darkness and narrowly missed her.

“Damn it!” Phryne caught onto the door’s edge to keep her balance as she quickly swung her head around to catch a better glimpse at the escapee. It was a girl, one whose defiant gaze seared through Miss Fisher’s being, after she had glanced back briefly upon hearing the older woman’s curse. She looked to be around twelve or thirteen, yet her haunting eyes looked like they could belong on the face of someone decades older. Her long, light brown hair fluttered about her waist. Recognition dawned as their eyes met, and Phryne immediately loosened her stance into one that was less threatening.

She recalled seeing this exact girl on her short flight from the Solomon Islands where she had managed to briefly visit Nauru Island before arriving in Port Moresby last night. Phryne had remembered noticing how the young girl had looked extremely uncomfortable from her middle seat between two stern-looking men. At the time, the socialite in her had also noticed the odd combination of the girl’s rather grubby, oversized t-shirt that had engulfed her extremely short Prada tartan mini skirt. Now, Phryne noticed that the girl was still wearing the same strange outfit that looked even more rumpled and incongruous with the her cheap and flimsy flipflops. After scrutinising the elegantly dressed woman before her, it would seem that the girl remembered Miss Fisher as well because she suddenly whirled about and continued to flee in the direction from which Phryne had just come.

“Wait, I won’t hurt you!” she quickly followed in pursuit, darting around the corner only to find herself face planting into a broad chest. A tuxedoed one whose owner’s familiar cologne washed over her as his strong arms wrapped around her to brace against the impact of their collision.

“You all right?” He quickly asked, peering down to assess the damage and shook his head at the smudge of red lipstick now staining his formerly pristine white shirt.

“Yes, fine!” She rubbed her squashed nose briefly before grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “Hurry, Jack, we need to find that girl that just ran past! Now!” Assuming that intermission had just begun, they had to act fast before the crowds engulfed them.

“I think she left through a fire exit that I just passed,” Jack reported, reaching for Phryne’s hand and heading in that direction. “Let’s go before the rest of the audience arrives!”

The two of them slipped through the exit, catching a glimpse of the girl who was making her way towards a small passageway between the theatre and an adjacent building. Phryne and Jack followed suit, only slowing slightly to dodge various obstacles such as rubbish bins and boxes. Jack glanced back to make sure she was still keeping up in her less than practical footwear, and slightly smirked to see her give him an impatient glare as though she could read his thoughts. They finally emerged out of the alleyway and onto the pavement only to see discover the girl surrounded by what looked to be several local police officers looking less than amiable.

“Where do you live?” One of them asked the girl as Phryne and Jack approached. “Where are your parents?”

The girl remained fiercely silent, staring at her interrogator defiantly without a sound.

“Excuse me, constables, but what exactly is going on here?” Phryne cut into the fray with Jack in tow.

“Thank you for your interest, madam, but this is police business that is none of your concern,” the one who had been questioning the girl turned his frustration towards the approaching couple.

“That sounds rather familiar, doesn’t it, darling?” She couldn’t help tilting her head back to smile impishly back at her partner who did his best to not react. “Well, it certainly concerns me that you have apprehended a minor who obviously does not want to interact with you.”

“Again, not that it’s any of your business, but unless you are responsible for her, I need to ask you to keep moving along.”

Jack decided that he’d had enough of the other man’s condescending tone.

“Inspector Jack Robinson, Australian Border Force,” he deftly flashed his badge so that only the officers could see it before whisking it away again. “My investigative partner, Miss Phryne Fisher, and I are currently undercover for a case here, Constable. We are now taking full responsibility for this young person. So, as Miss Fisher originally enquired, what seems to be the problem here?”

“Our apologies, sir,” the officer immediately straightened to his full height. “This young lady has been detained because we believe she’s in possession of a bag of priceless jewels that have been reported missing recently by some wealthy tourists. We have been tracing their whereabouts to a black market op in this area tonight when my colleague who has been staking this corner out saw her rush out holding a suspicious-looking package with the same ID as the stolen property.”

“I see,” Jack took in the information before turning to speak to the girl. “May we see your mysterious package then, miss?”

The girl continued to stare straight ahead of her this time without acknowledging Jack’s presence let alone his query. The inspector glanced at the other officers who awaited his order given he was now the superior officer in rank and jurisdiction. They could have quibbled about the jurisdiction possibly, but most of them had worked enough with the ABF to know when to yield. It was out of their pay grade to argue anyway.

With a pointed look towards Jack who nodded, Phryne stepped closer towards the girl slowly and then paused with unusual patience.

“Constables, let’s re-secure the area and give them some space,” he directed the officers who moved away from the two women. The other two policemen went to resume their original posts, whilst the one who had been speaking with them remained with Jack a little further away.

“Like the inspector said, I’m Phryne Fisher,” she told the girl. “What’s your name?” When she still didn’t respond, the charming socialite in her tried a different tactic. “Would you like to go into this cafe with me for a fizzy drink? Something to eat, perhaps?”

The girl’s eyes flickered, but she still remained quiet.

“Seems bribery’s not going to get us anywhere then. I’m tempted to tell them I saw you on the aeroplane. Your choice.”

At that, a mixture of fear tinged the girl’s defiance. “I don’t know anything!”

Phryne tried to place her accent. “Do you have the jewels? The police are looking to solve a major theft and smuggling ring. Next thing you know, they could take you away, and it won’t be me asking the questions.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve meant to. But, you certainly know something.”

“Janah,” the girl declared. “My name’s Janah, although I like to go by ‘Jane’ for short.”

“I had a sister called Jane. It’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you. And, yes,” Jane replied. “I would like to eat something with you. At the cafe. If that’s still all right.”

“Excellent,” Phryne smiled. “Would it be all right if the inspector joined us? We did ruin our date tonight chasing after you.”

Jane glanced over towards the man in question who was leaning against the wall of the building with his hands inside his trousers pockets. He righted himself when he saw Phryne and the girl watching him. Of all the people Jane had encountered recently, he and this Miss Fisher were the first adults who had treated her with genuine kindness. She instinctively knew that she could trust them.

“He does look rather hungry, so yeah,” the girl eventually agreed. Phryne agreed with a cheeky grin as she waved him over to extend the invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other prompt I used in this chapter was a vintage photo of the 1929 musical film “The Broadway Melody” and its featured song, “You Were Meant for Me,” that was written by American songwriter, Nacio Herb Brown. However much they fight it, we’re all investing all this time around the fact that Phrack are totally meant for each other, eh (at least, I sure am)?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The topic of human trafficking and child exploitation will be mentioned in this next and the following chapters, but not in any gratuitous detail, and more along the lines of the show’s canon telling of similar issues. The aim is not to glorify any of this at all, and I wanted to mention it here for trigger warnings. But, as a real life humanitarian worker and human rights campaigner, my intention is to create awareness of its reality because I feel Phryne and Jack would do what they could to combat these horrible injustices that are still happening to real women and children even now.

The sound of slurping filled the stunned silence as Jane was determined to capture the very last drops of her chocolate and banana milkshake. She did so whilst eyeing her dinner companions across the table from her following the end of her extraordinary tale. Rendering them speechless was an unusual feat for the normally unflappable human rights activist and seasoned former soldier and policeman. But, perhaps, that was because neither of them had ever met anyone quite like the spunky pre-teen.

After they had settled at a secluded table tucked away into the corner of the cafe and ordered their meals, Jane had launched into her incredible story. It began in Damascus where the young girl had lived with her parents. Her Arabic name was “Janah,” but most people ended up calling her “Jane” because from a young age, she had never quite fit in with the other Syrian children. Her father, Alan Ross, was a professor of archaeology, who had been killed during a dig when his team had inadvertently been caught in the middle of an unexpected skirmish before the Syrian conflict had begun in earnest. Never recovering from the shock and grief of losing her husband so tragically, her mother, Anna Ross, had become so ill to the point where she was unable to care for her young daughter any longer.

As a result, Jane had shuffled from living on the streets to one family member’s household to another, feeling like a burden to her already increasingly worried relatives. She had had a sporadic education until her last school, and everything within its radius, had been bombed, and everyone had begun fleeing the city. Because of her Australian heritage and the fact she was fluent in English, several of her uncles had heard the rumours that there could be opportunities to flee to Australia. Jane had never been told anything about her father’s side of the family or where he had lived and grown up. She never had the chance, and there was no way to ask Anna who struggled to remember her own name most days. Thus, her aunties pooled together enough of what was left of their funds to send Jane away, hoping she could at least claim asylum and then locate her other family members upon arrival. And that she could then try to help the ones she would have to leave behind.

“But, things didn’t quite go to plan, did they?” Miss Fisher had asked, doing her best to not clench her fists from anger at the thought of what the poor girl had endured due to the worst types of greed preying on others’ desperation. Jack had reached out then to grasp Phryne’s hands in a calming gesture although she knew that he would have thrown the first punch had they been face-to-face with the traffickers.

“What did they promise you after they took your relatives’ money?” Inspector Robinson had then asked her.

“They said that they would find a family to take me in and help me find and contact my father’s family. That I would be well-cared for, and could continue to go to school,” Jane recounted. “I found out they were lying not too long after my uncles left me at the meeting point, and I was forced into the back of a large lorry.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jack immediately asked with a clenched jaw. Only Phryne recognised the near growl of righteous anger emanating from him. She had then squeezed her partner’s hand in return before slipping her other hand to gently grasp the young girl’s as Jane had paused at this point.

Due to her humanitarian experience, Phryne had witnessed firsthand the sordid plights of the majority of refugees escaping life-threatening conflicts and enduring inhumane conditions to reach some safe haven where they hoped their children could be safe. These people had lost their homes, livelihoods, loved ones...everything. And thus, left with no choice, but to leave and find somewhere else, something else, someone else who would listen. But, so much of the world kept trying to turn a blind eye, until the bravest amongst those who attempted to leave faced even more hellish ordeals to arrive at what they hoped would be compassionate borders and shores. Tragically, this was not always the case. Certainly not around these particular shores, although she spent many a waking moment trying to change this.

“I made it to Indonesia eventually,” the girl’s eyes telling her audience what she wouldn’t put into words verbally. “And that’s where the leaders gave us life jackets and some bottled water and food. They then loaded us up into these rubber dinghies and pushed us offshore.”

“For how long were you out there?” Miss Fisher asked softly.

“My boat drifted for five days before the first Australian coast guard boat discovered us. Since I was the only one in my boat who could speak English, I had to explain who we all were. Why we needed help. I tried to tell them my dad was Australian.”

“Did they believe you?” the inspector asked even though he had an idea of the answer.

“They said I needed to show proof such as my birth certificate or passport. And my dad’s paperwork. Which I told them I don’t have because everything I ever owned was bombed.”

Phryne’s eyes narrowed and burned at the injustice that such a horrific statement should roll off the tongue of such a young girl who should never have had to experience such darkness. Worst of all was the dismissive tone she had used to refer to the utter destruction she had experienced as though she had been telling them about something any other normal eleven or twelve year-old should be talking about.

Jane then continued to tell them how she and the others had been informed that they would be detained until their claims for asylum could undergo further processing.

“I was then shipped off with the other women and girls in my boat to Nauru. The men and boys went to Manus Island.”

“Did you ever meet Vanessa Greenwood at the detention centre?” Phryne quickly asked with a side glance towards Jack, her adrenaline rushing as Jane looked at her curiously. “That’s why the inspector and I are really here now, Jane. To discover her whereabouts since she disappeared mysteriously only a few days ago after refusing to leave when all other staff had been pulled out.”

Jane’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter suddenly. “Actually, yes, I did meet Vanessa, during my first day in the refugee camp, in fact. She looked after me ever since...right up until…” Her voice faltered slightly as she stared at her milkshake.

“Until what, Jane? You can tell us,” Phryne prompted her encouragingly. “Vanessa is also a friend and colleague of mine, so I want to discover what happened to her and make sure she’s safe.”

A determined glint passed through the girl’s eyes as she considered the woman before her. For some reason, Jane decided that she could trust her without really knowing why.

“OK, all I know is that when things got really bad at the camps, you know, when food and water, and all that had become really low, Vanessa kept trying to make sure that me and some of the other girls who were all alone and didn’t have their families with them would be all right. We’d all heard the rumours about the traffickers. She had warned us about going out at night on our own, and always making sure we went to the loo or to the showers together. That sort of thing.”

“But, this still left you in danger,” Jack immediately concluded. “I’m so sorry you were all left so vulnerable without the protection of enough guards.”

Jane nodded slightly to acknowledge the inspector’s words before continuing. “It didn’t matter. They got us in the end. First, they took Vanessa so we really didn’t have anyone left to defend us. Then, a few nights ago, a group of them came when we were asleep. They came right into our tent with knives, and said they would kill her and us if we didn’t come with them.”

“My god, Jane,” Phryne grasped her hand. “You don’t have to tell us any details now. Is that when they brought you here to Port Moresby, on the same plane that I was also on?” The girl nodded miserably.

“Where did they take you when you arrived?” Jack asked gently. “How did you escape?”

“It was to a shipping container at first. Then to some sort of warehouse. I could tell by the fishy smell that it was near the docks,” Jane explained. “They kept me there all night, but this afternoon, they let me out and told me they were moving me for the time being to a new location where they would make me ‘famous.’ They only laughed at me when I asked what they were talking about. Early this morning when they removed me from the container, I saw that I was right. We were near the water. They then took me to a restaurant near the theatre and locked me into a storage room. But, they didn’t know I had taught myself how to pick locks.”

“Brava, Jane!” Phryne applauded her, ignoring the inspector as he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I then discovered that the restaurant joined with the theatre building and hid myself there throughout the rest of the day. There’s lots of places in there that I’ll bet no one knows about. I decided to make my escape tonight during the play when there would be more people about. So, I hid in the wardrobe of an empty dressing room...where you found me,” she told Miss Fisher.

“Thank you for sharing what you did, Miss Ross,” Jack confirmed. “We can record your official account later down at the station. If you’re feeling up to it, could you please share anything else with regards to the local police’s allegations against you?”

“That’s the inspector’s way of asking you to explain anything about these reported stolen jewels, Jane. We need to know if you found them or not.”

Jane plonked down her metal milkshake cannister with a loud thump onto the table before her, blowing some hair out of her eyes, and crossing her arms.

“You are a very courageous person, Jane, for surviving what you did to even get here to this point,” Phryne told the girl encouragingly. “Why don’t we save the rest of your story for later when you are feeling more up to it? She can do that, can’t she, Jack?”

Her partner nodded, but before the inspector could speak, the door to the cafe flew open as someone rushed in from outside. Jane suddenly tensed up, gripping Phryne’s hand in a death grip.

“Jane, what’s wrong?” Miss Fisher instinctively went into automatic protective mode, all her senses on alert.

“Jane, darling!” The oddly dressed woman who had just entered the venue immediately rushed to their table once she clamped her beady eyes onto the girl sitting with what she could immediately tell was an extremely well-dressed couple. “Thank god, you’re all right! Now, come back home with me and we'll help sort out all this fuss.”

“No! I’m not going back there!”

“Do excuse us,” the woman turned to address Phryne and Jack who both inwardly cringed at her sickeningly sweet tone. “I’m her aunt, Doreen Gray.”

“You’re not my aunt,” Jane vehemently protested, never letting go of Phryne’s hand.

“Now, this isn’t the time for one of your stories.”

“I don't want you near me! Any of you and those others!”

“Who are you talking about, Jane?” Phryne demanded, glaring at the woman whilst moving her chair closer to the girl. Jack pushed his chair back, beginning to rise to his feet.

“Jane, dear. Now, I know we don't have the luxury of going out like this back home, but that is no reason for this kind of carrying-on. Now, come along.”

“No! Please don't make me go back there!” Jane cried out as both Jack and Phryne stood up together then, the humanitarian wrapping a protective arm around the girl who was still holding onto her hand.

“I'm afraid it's very late in the day to be discussing this, Ms Gray,” Jack informed the other woman in his authoritative tone of voice that had quelled many a criminal and terrorist. “If you'd like to meet us at the police station in the morning, you can provide the local authority with proof that you're Jane's legal guardian. Only then, will they release her into your care.”

“Don't be fooled by her,” the woman shook her finger in the girl’s direction. “She's a devious child.”

“Why don’t I see you out, Ms Gray,” the inspector reached for the woman’s arm and began steering her back towards the entrance, his tone again warning against any further protests or arguments. With a long glance back towards Miss Fisher, who nodded before responding to his unspoken message with one of her own, Jack escorted the irritable intruder right out of the restaurant. Phryne knew that he would also make sure to go brief the remaining constables about this latest update. Two of them had remained on guard nearby on Jack’s instructions before he had joined Miss Fisher and Jane inside the cafe earlier.

“Jane,” Phryne encouraged the girl to sit back down again. “Who is that woman? What are you so afraid of?”

Jane stared sullenly down at the remainder of her uneaten chicken wrap and made no response, but Phryne knew the girl was still shaking. She still clung to the older woman’s hand.

“How can I help you if you won't tell me?”

The girl resumed her now familiar vacant look and didn’t respond.


	6. Chapter 6

Phryne paced the length of the hotel suite’s living room impatiently. She slowed only slightly when she neared the opened door to the nearby bedroom and peered inside. The moonlight from the floor to ceiling windows cast a soft glow over the lone occupant who was fast asleep in the luxurious bed. Tiptoeing inside, she glided over to watch the rise and fall of the sleeping form for a few minutes before slipping back out again.

She walked over towards the sofa just as the door to the suite’s office nook opened to reveal an extremely weary-looking inspector. He paused to run a hand through his now unruly hair before he approached her with a bleary expression.

“I’ve finished briefing the commissioner on the situation, and he agrees that we’ve done the right thing taking Jane into our custody for the time-being.”

“I haven’t had the chance yet to thank you for that, Jack,” Phryne reached out a hand to play with the smudge of lipstick still on the front of his tuxedo shirt from their earlier collision at the theatre. The musical seemed like it had happened ages ago in light of the events that had eaten up the rest of their evening. “There’s no way I could have left her at the station. Or with anyone else really until we can get to the bottom of it all.”

“No, of course not,” Jack agreed before sinking down to sit on the designer sofa. “It’s a good thing my credentials and our current cover were all more than adequate to make it possible for us to have temporary custody.”

“Yes, who knew we would have to put up with our headstrong, pre-teen ‘daughter’ showing up unexpectedly during our holiday,” Phryne smiled at her partner before sitting down right next to him. She looped her arm through his before nuzzling her head against his shoulder. “Good thing, our stalwart nanny could be dispatched to join us as soon as possible as well.”

“I’m not sure Collins was aware that that would be his cover story,” the inspector replied wryly, knowing full well that she was speaking about her dear assistant, Dot. Miss Williams had instantly agreed to board the first flight to Port Moresby soon as she heard about their situation. Since her fiance, Hugh Collins, was already working on the case with Jack, he was able to deploy his junior officer to join her. They were due to arrive sometime early morning.

“Well, I certainly don’t envy them their ungodly time of arrival,” Phryne’s corresponding chuckle was interrupted suddenly by an insistent buzzing feeling close to her ear. She soon discovered that it was Jack’s work phone when he placed his personal one down on the table and reached inside his inner jacket pocket to draw out the other with a shrug at her curious look. He glanced down at the phone’s display.

“Why would George Sanderson be calling me? And now?” Jack mused out loud as Phryne sat up and made a face at the mention of his former father-in-law whom she knew was still his boss. She had had the misfortune of crossing paths with the deputy commissioner several times whilst working on previous cases with Jack. The older man had some extremely patriarchal views about women and what he deemed “their rightful place”, and had never hesitated to inform both Jack and especially her of these. The encounters had been less than amiable.

“Jack Robinson here,” the inspector answered the phone. He listened to the ensuing tirade that Phryne could nearly hear even thought Jack hadn’t tapped the speaker phone option. “That’s right. Yes, sir, earlier this evening. No, sir, we hope to get her full statement in the morning.” He suddenly glanced at Phryne, a deep frown pulling his moulded features down into a fierce expression. This didn’t bode well, she thought. Phryne slid her hand down his arm to take his hand and held it firmly. “What? With all due respect sir….I see. Yes, understood. Good bye.”

“What was that all about, Jack?”

“George is pulling me, and therefore, you as well, off the case,” Jack told her in slight disbelief, slapping the phone onto the coffee table in front of them. “I’m to return to Melbourne first thing in the morning. He didn’t seem to care what you did or where you went so long as you stayed away from the investigation.”

“What? Why? What if we refuse?” Phryne was beginning to find it hard to withhold her indignation the more she learned about the ABF deputy commissioner.

“Then, I’ll be dismissed,” Jack spat out, gripping his head in his hands.

“But how can he order you to do that? You were deployed by Commissioner Hall by urgent request from the Prime Minister, whom, as far as I understand, both outrank Sanderson!”

Jack raised his head and turned to look at Phryne with a bleak expression. Seeing him look so defeated tore at her insides, prompting her to wrap her arms about him, as though she could ward off whatever was happening to him.

“Not anymore,” he said softly, yet in an ominous tone. “Apparently, Hall just stepped down for some as of yet unknown reason. And the PM is currently not taking calls.”

“Oh, Jack,” she immediately understood. “So that means…”

“Yes, Sanderson is now the new ABF Commissioner. And he’s just pulled the plug on our case. Or, at least, he’s handed it over to O’Shaughnessy to satisfy the Prime Minister’s office, most likely.” Phryne could tell from what he left unsaid that this other officer was an extremely incompetent idiot. Although, as far as she was concerned, most police officials were when compared to Jack.

“This is outrageous. They’ll be hearing from me! And certainly Aunt Prudence!” She couldn’t bear to see Jack look so crestfallen.

“He also said that we are to place Jane into the hands of the local ABF office so she can be transferred back to Nauru after they’ve questioned her and taken her statement.”

“Like hell they will!” She blew out a frustrated breath she hadn’t realised she was holding before once again wrapping her arms about Jack again and giving him a big squeeze. His arms automatically engulfed her back in a tight embrace before he pressed his lips against her temple.

“I’m sorry, Phryne,” he murmured as though he were responsible for letting her down.

“It’s not your fault!” When he didn’t respond she tried switching tactics by bouncing up and coaxing him to a standing position. “Look, Jack, there’s nothing much more we can do at the moment. So let’s try to get some sleep and come up with a new plan in the morning.”

“You’re right,” he ran a hand over his tired eyes before allowing her to tug him upward. “I’ll take the sofa here, Miss Fisher,” he gallantly offered.

“Nonsense,” she tsked at him, propelling him towards the large master bedroom. “Not only do we both need a comfortable and good night’s sleep, we still can’t afford to blow our cover. And, you wouldn’t want to go giving poor Jane a fright in case she sleep walks or wanders out here and doesn’t expect to find you in the living room.”

Too exhausted physically and emotionally to argue, Jack allowed her to lead him into the room. Without a word passing between them, he resigned himself to letting her help him remove his evening wear before tucking him into Archie’s new silk pajamas and then into the bed. He sleepily watched her remove her jewellry before approaching his side of the bed and turning her back towards him.

“Before you nod off completely, could you please unzip me, Jack?”

He sat up warily at her request and cleared his throat before maneuvering his fingers beneath the back collar of her gorgeous dress to locate the hidden zipper. Giving it a gentle tug, the fastening instantly gave way to his touch like a knife gliding through soft butter. Jack was glad she couldn’t see him blushing at the little sounds she made as he undid her dress.

“Thank you, Inspector,” she remarked before turning to blow him a saucy kiss over her shoulder, holding the dress to her bare decolletage. Then, with a wink she made her way over to the ensuite bathroom where she paused briefly. “Next time, it’ll be so much better when you do it with your teeth.”

She grinned at the blush that deepened his cheeks before stepping inside the bathroom where she dropped the material and stepped out of the gown. She then perched on the edge of the opulent tub, leaning over to turn the taps, deciding a bath was in order despite the late hour. Her mind was still too wired for her to attempt to sleep. The thought of being able to sleep with her inspector finally was definitely a motivator for her to hurry. But, admittedly, she had hoped that their first time sharing a bed together would involve a bit more activity than just actual slumber.

Slipping into the welcoming water, Phryne mentally sifted through the events of the evening and then mulled through Jane’s story again. After Jack had escorted that disgusting Gray woman (if that was even her real name) off the premises, he had returned to inform them that he’d pulled in a few favours to gain temporary police custody of Jane. He later told Phryne after Jane had been safely stowed in their suite’s spare room that this meant they had to try to get her to disclose any further details about the traffickers. They were also tasked with the job of unravelling the mystery of whether the girl did, in fact, know anything about the missing jewels that didn’t appear to be in her possession after all.

“Maybe you should look into anyone nearby who specializes in video special effects,” Jane had told them rather cryptically as her eyes had become heavier after her two bubble baths. The poor girl hadn’t had a proper bath for longer than she could remember since she had left Syria. Apparently, the showers at the detention centres also left a lot to be desired in the way of hygiene. Phryne had had the foresight to call her housekeeper, Mr Butler, in Melbourne to obtain some delousing shampoo and soap to send with Dot before she arrived later. She hadn’t wanted to raise any alarm bells when she had instructed the concierge to arrange for the delivery of a new wardrobe for their “daughter’s” unexpected arrival.

“What do you mean?” Jack had immediately asked Jane to clarify. “Were your abductors involved in any type of video or film work? Did they tell you that you had to be part of it?”

Phryne had pierced him with a knowing look at where he was going with his line of questioning. He had clenched his jaw with a slight nod in response to her unspoken fear. The investigators hoped against hope that Jane hadn’t been coerced into becoming a victim of child pornography, which unfortunately, was prevalent in trafficking circles. They were already more than concerned when she had told them how her abductors had insisted that she and the other girls remove their Syrian clothing and change into contemporary, Western-style outfits before they were flown out. That explained the odd ensemble she had been sporting since the traffickers had realised the girls would be more noticeable traipsing about in their worn out traditional wear.

“No, I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. Before I escaped, I did overhear some of the men talking about setting up a camera though which made me wonder at the time if they were directors or something, especially when I saw the restaurant was attached to a theatre,” the girl had informed them honestly noting the obvious relief in her rescuer’s demeanours at her response. “You see, I kept seeing the letters ‘SFFX’ on the sides of the containers around the docks, including the one they had kept me in. My cousins back home are really into the latest video games, so I thought the letters sounded like the short form for ‘special effects’ that they always used to rave about their annoying games. That is, before they lost their home during the recent bombings.”

Phryne repeated the letters now to herself slowly, once again impressed by the young girl’s attention to detail and logic. Her skin began to tingle as she sensed that innate feeling inside her brain that usually signalled something finally falling into place. Something seemed familiar, but why? She ducked under the water where the reduced sounds worked again to unravel the puzzle inside her quick mind as it processed keywords from what Jane had revealed. Special effects, cameras, shipping containers, the theatre? Why the double “Fs”?

“That’s it! How could I have been so blind?”

She stood up quickly, making sure she kept her balance as water splashed over the sides of the tub. Reaching for a fresh, extra fluffy bath towel, she wrapped it about herself before tiptoeing back inside the room and over to the wardrobe. She quickly dressed in her black skinny jeans, black long-sleeved top and tucked her hair up inside the black beret she usually wore for field work.

Creeping over to the bed, she watched her sleeping partner fondly for a few moments before leaning down to press her ruby red lips across his forehead lightly. Satisfied when he stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up, Phryne began to slink her way over towards the door and out into the corridor. She paused and listened and after not hearing anything from the suite’s sleeping occupants, she took a moment to send off a few text messages. Then, she headed towards the suite’s coat closet to select her black, knee-high leather boots that she always made a point of travelling with, especially for a case. Silently slipping them on, Miss Fisher unbolted the suite’s main door and disappeared into the night after making sure the door locked close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are or have been a victim of trafficking or exploitation (or know someone who is), please know you are not alone. There are many people (like me!) and organisations like [ECPAT International](http://www.ecpat.org/) and [International Justice Mission](https://www.ijm.org/) committed to ending human slavery and the sexual exploitation of children.


	7. Chapter 7

Inspector Jack Robinson blinked into the semi-darkness of the moonlight slowly, his hand quickly slipping under his pillow to grasp the handle of his ABF standard-issued Glock 17 pistol. He didn’t normally make a habit of sleeping with a weapon, but he had opted to do so tonight given the circumstances. He did know better than to tell himself it was from any illusion of protecting his investigative partner. He’d already seen her in action enough times to be well aware she was more than capable of defending any of them when it came down to it. And that was before he’d discovered that the woman had surpassed the tenth dan in Judo. Tonight, he could get away with explaining the gun under his pillow because he was in charge of an asylum-seeking minor. Although he and his ex-wife had never been able to have children, Jack didn’t need to be a father to recognise the familiar, extra protective instinct currently coursing through his veins as it sought to identify the source of the potential threat that had awoken him.

There it was again.

The sound was muffled, but distinct, and was coming from the direction of the bathroom. Still fingering his pistol, Jack turned his head and other arm towards the other side of the bed to see if Phryne had noticed it as well. His hand touched the decidedly cold and crisp textures of a still plump pillow and perfectly made-up half of the bed that showed a distinct absence of his partner’s presence.

_Damn it. Where was she?_

As the disturbance continued from the ensuite, Jack sat up swiftly and swung his silk-clad legs off the bed to stand on the cool tiled floor. Maybe Miss Fisher had fallen asleep in the bathroom? How long had he been dozing anyway? Sudden worry that she may have slipped and fallen or worst, perhaps, somehow become incapacitated in the tub, spurred him to the bathroom door...that opened to reveal an empty space.

Only, it was being lit up by a small object vibrating on the marble countertop next to the sink. Muttering a soft expletive and relaxing his hold on the Glock, Jack stepped over the abandoned mound of clothing strewn across the floor. He instantly recognised the velvet from Phryne’s evening dress that she had worn to the theatre earlier. The vibrations and light from the sink stole his attention again, prompting him to grab the mobile phone. It was his personal one (odd, he didn’t remember leaving it in here) that was frantically trying to tell him he had a few missed calls, new messages, and a current call that was the source of his rude awakening. Jack quickly accepted the call when he saw that it was from Hugh.

“Jack Robinson here,” he automatically responded. “Great, Collins. Yes, we’re in the Royal Orchid Suite, penthouse level. No worries, left my work phone in the living room. Yeah, come on up. See you soon.”

Punching in his passcode, the inspector nearly dropped his phone at the new image that had now taken over as his new wallpaper background. He was suddenly very glad that he was alone. Evidently, Miss Fisher had had a bubble bath and decided to show him what he had missed out on in a very Phrynesque way. He wasn’t even surprised that she had managed to work out his code and had hacked into his phone. Clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from the image of her knowing smile and sexy pose that revealed more than a hint of creamy skin slightly hidden by foamy bubbles, Jack clicked on his messages icon. The first one was, of course, also from her:

_“Good thing you’re better at guarding Oz’s security instead of your phone, Inspector! Next time, use MY name instead of yours for a password! Harder to spell. P xxx”_

The next one was from Hugh letting him know of his and Dot’s ETA to Port Moresby. He glanced through one or two others that weren’t important. Finally, there was a brief, but informative one more recently sent from Cec Yates, Phryne’s mate who often did freelance work for her with their other mutual friend, Bert. His brief text nearly made Jack drop his phone again.

_“Jack, can’t get hold of Miss F. Got poss lead for the case. Search for SFFX symbols near docks. CY”_

Jack ran the acronym through his mind as he hurried back into the bedroom and threw open the nearest wardrobe doors. Apparently, their porter or maid had either been bored or truly good at their jobs since it was easy to spot the clothes that he had hastily packed hanging next to the decadent outfits Fern had acquired for her husband. Everything had been ironed and hung up according to colour and style. Pulling out some jeans, an aubergine-shaded polo shirt (Phryne had seemed to especially like it after he had given in and tried it on for her after their luncheon), and his own well-worn leather motorcycle jacket, Jack quickly changed out of Archie’s pajamas. After securing the belt buckle, Jack slipped on his holster before snapping his gun safely into place and shrugging into the leather jacket.

Hearing a soft knock, he made his way towards the suite’s main entrance hall after glancing towards the spare room. It would seem that Jane was a sound sleeper, which was good. He could see through the office’s glass doors that Phryne wasn’t in that room either. Peering through the viewing hole, Jack unlocked the door to admit a tired, but still smiling Dot and sleepy-looking Hugh.

“Hello, Inspector, how you going?” Miss Williams asked softly as she and Hugh crowded into the entryway. “Sorry if we woke you, but our flight arrived a bit earlier.”

“Hi, Miss Williams, I’ve been better,” Jack responded, gesturing them both towards the living room. “Do, come on in.” The young couple followed him inside and Dot sat down on the sofa that Jack offered to them. Hugh opted to remain standing and on alert.

“Is Miss Phryne asleep? I’ve brought everything that she requested.” Dot demonstrated by pointing to the compact Louis Vuitton carry-on that Hugh had just deposited on the floor by their feet. “Including the soap and lotions for Miss...Jane, is it? Is she asleep as well?”

“Thanks for doing that,” Jack told her. “And yes, Jane is asleep. As for Miss Fisher, well, to be honest, I would feel a good deal better if I actually knew where she was.” He hooked his hand behind his neck to massage the tension that inevitably found its way there, usually caused by a certain human rights activist.

Both Dot and Collins widened their eyes at one another, although both weren’t necessarily surprised at the inspector’s confession. Miss Fisher was anything but predictable.

“Although, I just had this tip come through from Mr Yates that might shed some light as to her whereabouts,” the inspector passed his phone to Miss Williams. She took it and studied the text message as her fiance looked over her shoulder. “What do you think this means?”

“SFFX? Why does that sound familiar,” the ABF officer thought out loud. “Who owns it, sir?”

“Damn it!” His boss suddenly shot into action having just read Phryne’s last text message to him. He quickly headed back into the bedroom quickly, before stopping to ask over his shoulder. “Do you have your Glock, Collins?”

“Yes, sir! I know you told me to come undercover, but I’ve got it with me.”

“Good, you’re coming with me,” Jack re-emerged with his trusty biking boots. He needed footwear he could depend on for where they were headed. “I’m sorry, Miss Williams, but could I impose upon you to stay here so Jane won’t be alone whenever she wakes up? We’ll send word soon as we locate Miss Fisher.”

“Of course, Inspector, don’t worry about a thing,” Phryne’s assistant instantly reassured him. “I’m here to help! Oh here, take this with you, I bought a fresh refill after we landed. You might need it.” She handed him a silver tea flask that he accepted with a grateful thanks.”

“Where we headed, sir?” Hugh asked after giving his Dottie a quick farewell kiss and following his superior back towards the entrance.

“Hope your shoes are waterproof, Collins,” Jack replied. “We’re heading for the docks.”

*-*-*

The Honourable Phryne Fisher had always been nimble on her feet and the skill had always served her well. Whether it was to escape those who didn’t appreciate her mischievousness whilst growing up in the blue-collared edges of Collingwood, Melbourne, or to satisfy her pernickety finishing school teachers at one ball after another (after her father had unexpectedly inherited his title and she’d been shipped off to England), she was especially grateful for it now. It had certainly benefited her often gruelling frontline field work, and it definitely aided her now as she pulled herself onto the rooftop of a seemingly, nondescript warehouse in Port Moresby’s docklands.

The building was not unlike others in the area, except for a few distinctions. This one bore the very plain business letters of “SFFX” in simple black letters against a plain white background by its well-sealed entrance below. She had recalled noticing it during her added detour when she had used her earlier shopping trip as a way to do some reconnaissance before Jack arrived. Jane's recounting had jogged her memory and so she figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look about before she woke up her partner.

After unsuccessfully trying to gain entry through the large hangar-like doors, the intrepid visitor had noticed a series of windows higher up and close to the structure’s roof. That meant there might be roof access, or if all else failed, she was certain she could get one of windows to open. She had then easily scaled one of the shipping containers bearing the same letters in order to reach the fire escape, and from there, it was a piece of cake really to reach the rooftop. It was a good thing that she was a regular at the climbing centre and yoga studio she had purchased about a year ago to help out someone whose entrepreneurial spirit had inspired her.

Phryne rolled and dropped onto the roof’s surface and then paused to regain her bearings. Just as she had hoped, there was roof access. What she hadn’t anticipated was the large “H” markings emblazoned within a white circle that told her the business was lucrative enough to have its own helicopter landing pad. As no else seemed to be about, she made her way over towards the rooftop door and grinned at the old-fashioned padlock that secured it. Reaching inside her bra, the human rights activist pulled out her vintage lock pick that she had acquired from her father at a young age. During one of his more jovial drunken spells, she had used the situation to her advantage and cajoled him into teaching her the finer art of lockpicking. Certainly not something she could have picked up (although it was often applied there) during her later enforced spell at boarding school.

It took her less than thirty seconds to open the door and slip inside what looked to be a dark, yet ordinary set of stairs that eventually led her down into the dark cavern of the open-planned warehouse. Even in the gloom, her perfect vision revealed row upon row of shipping containers on one end, all stacked together like a giant’s version of Lego. On the other end was various equipment she had expected to find in such an location such as forklifts, boxes, and even a few golf carts. No doubt, any staff member would benefit from the vehicles to help them navigate a place of this size. She decided to keep to the walkway circumventing the warehouse so she could stake out the area (and keep those windows just above her head handy just in case). This also gave her a bird’s eye advantage as she silently made her way from one end of the building to the other, naturally drawn towards an area towards the middle where there was a glowing light and movement coming from below.

She peered down to see what looked to be a crude studio set-up with a staging area, spotlights and a small green screen setup as a backdrop. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be about. Slipping out her mobile phone, she began to take some photos and slowly moved towards the nearest landing so she could make her way downwards. As she reached the bottom level, she quickly slid behind an open container and moved sideways until she reached one of the opened doors and stuck her head around it. Only to find several pairs of frightened eyes staring back at her from anxious, gagged faces.

“Oh, you poor lambs,” she gasped out, stepping inside the stinking, dark container, bent on freeing the first girl she could reach. Her muffled cry set Phryne on alert who instantly whirled about, stuffing her phone into her back pocket and reaching for the knife she had strapped around her ankle. But, she froze into place at the sound of a gun cocking and an unexpectedly familiar figure before her.

“I'm afraid I'll have to tie you up. But I'm sure you'd prefer your own container anyway,” a resigned Sidney Fletcher informed her. He then grabbed her painfully by the arm before knocking her out with the butt of his weapon.

A series of muted shrieks stung her ears before blackness engulfed her.


	8. Chapter 8

The rental car that Hugh and Dot had picked up at the airport careened around the corner of the empty street before Hugh shouted out for Jack to stop.

“Here, sir! The GPS says this is it!”

Jack pulled over to the side of the road and yanked on the handbrake before jumping out of the vehicle and assessing his surroundings. Overheard, starlight glazed in the clear night sky, the nearby sounds of the sea echoed, and the echoes of a chopper flying overhead broke through the deserted thoroughfare. Hugh also vaulted out of the passenger side, and together, they both sprinted towards their destination when Jack abruptly stopped.

“I’m sorry, Collins, but I forgot to tell you this in the rush of everything earlier,” he turned towards his faithful officer. “Just before you arrived tonight, George Sanderson pulled me off the case and told me to return to Melbourne in the morning.”

“But, why, sir? And how? Didn’t Commissioner Hall personally assign you to this investigation?”

“Yes, but for some unexpected and unknown reason, Hall stepped down. And now, Sanderson’s the ABF Commissioner. I should have told you sooner, but now that we’re here, I wanted you to know that you’re under no obligation to come with me, Collins.” The roar of the helicopter returned in full force, nearly drowning out the inspector’s words as it landed on the very rooftop of the building they were both about to bust.

Hugh quickly absorbed all the information sprung on him by his usually cautious and prepared superior officer. He reached out to grip Jack’s forearm in a show of solidarity.

“Thank for briefing me, sir, but even with what you’ve just told me, I’m still going in there with you.”

Jack nodded his inexpressible gratitude at the younger man’s unquestioning loyalty. Then, the two simultaneously reached for their weapons and began to move stealthily towards the warehouse’s entrance when a shadow stepped out right in front of them into the dim circle cast by a nearby streetlamp.

“What are you doing here, Jack? I thought I told you that you were being re-assigned from this case.”

“George? What’s going on? What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were handing things over to O’Shaughnessy? And if you know there’s something going on here, where’s your back up?”

“Jack, I will handle this any way I see fit. You two step foot inside that building and your jobs are finished.”

“Last chance, Collins, you can go.” Jack again turned towards his junior officer.

“I stand by what I said, sir, no thanks.” Again, Jack nodded his acceptance and then turned towards their superior.

“You can reprimand me. You can dismiss me if you like. But, I am searching that warehouse.”

And with that the two officers stepped around the other man who instantly turned to follow them under the slight three feet opening of the warehouse’s massive door. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Jack instantly ran at full speed towards the only lit area he could spot as Sanderson continued to call out for him and Collins to stop. The older man slowed slightly when he reached Jack and Hugh who had just discovered the makeshift studio area and the empty holding container.

Jack immediately jumped up from his kneeling position clutching a small sized flip flop in a shaking hand. One that he recognised as being similar to the pair they had found Jane Ross wearing. In his other hand, he held out a familiar-looking, jewelled lockpick that could only belong to one person because he had only seen one exactly like it hidden and produced regularly from her person. He shook it in Sanderson’s face.

“George, what the hell are you covering up?”

“I warned you, Jack!”

“Officer, handcuff him! Collins, cuff him to this post!” Jack indicated towards a large metal beam next to them that shot straight up towards the cavernous roof. “And leave him there!”

Hugh immediately obeyed and went to cuff the apparent commissioner to the beam. Sanderson thankfully knew better than to resist or comment as his former son-in-law rushed into the darkness of the warehouse.

“Miss Fisher! Phryne? Where are you?” He fought to fight down his panic as he frantically ran from one shipping container to another within the perimeter, using his mobile phone’s built-in torch to light the way. “Miss Fisher?”

He nodded towards Collins who had caught up with him and began to do the same. The two darted in and out when suddenly, the inspector’s ears perked at the sound of something clanging, and then rustling. There! A muffled cry came from just above him. Jack whirled about 360 degrees with his light and suddenly swivelled it back towards a lithe figure sliding down the metal bannister of a stairway he hadn’t previously noticed.

“Jack!”

“Phryne!”

“Jack, the girls are now locked in the back container, Vanessa’s with them. And Fletcher's behind it all!”

The sound of gunshot ricocheted too close for comfort just as Phryne reached him, gave him a quick squeeze, and then whirled around so they were back to back against their unknown enemies. She clutched her knife and an unfamiliar pistol in her hands aiming outwards. Hugh had found a vantage point and sending a clear warning to whoever was using them for target practice to back off. The two partners covered one another’s back quite literally until they reached a parked golf cart.

“Quick, Jack! We've got to get the girls before Fletcher does.”

“Hugh, head for the back container! We’ll meet you there!”

“Yes, sir!”

Jack had jumped onto the front bench to cover Miss Fisher who had naturally leaped into the driver’s seat.

“Does it have a key?”

“Nope, but it never hurts to be prepared,” she brandished a metal object that she had pulled off her keychain. “It’s a universal one for these types of vehicles, definitely comes in handy for frontline field work.”

“Remind me to get one for Christmas,” Jack volleyed back as he returned fire at a bullet that hit the side of the vehicle.

“Already got you one for your stocking, Inspector. Now, hang on!” She barely managed to warn him before stepping on the gas pedal and coaxing the vehicle forward.

The gun shots gradually began to diminish as they sped off across the warehouse’s main floor towards the back entrance. Keeping out a steady eye against any unseen threats, Jack turned back to face the front. He glanced over towards Miss Fisher, assessing her appearance. She looked relatively unharmed, although slightly rumpled, until he spotted a nasty bruise across her temple and rope burn around both her wrists as she expertly maneuvered them through the maze of containers and other storage units. He winced in empathy and reached out quickly to grasp one of her wrists gently with a quick swipe of his thumb across the red marks before returning his attention to their surroundings.

“I’m fine, Jack,” she reassured him with a pointed look intermingled with a spark of her trademark defiance as well as warmth at his concern. Before he could reply, she abruptly braked, causing him to brace himself before he toppled out over the front. “Close call there, Inspector. It’s this way!”

She darted ahead of him as usual and was out through the back entrance that was suspiciously opened. Jack followed swiftly and eventually emerged outside where the smells and sounds of the sea again assaulted his senses. He suddenly careened to a horrified halt when he spotted a silhouette standing on the dock’s ridge with an outstretched arm that was purposefully aiming a gun towards...

_Phryne!_


	9. Chapter 9

A deafening gun shot echoed across the docklands as time suddenly stood still. Then, Sidney Fletcher reached a hand up to shoulder just as the momentum from the bullet that had slammed into his shoulder propelled him over the ridge and into the water below with a loud slash.

Jack rushed towards and offered a hand to Phryne who gracefully rose to her feet just as Hugh joined them. Collins had seen it all unfold before his eyes like an epic cinematic picture. The three approached the dock’s ridge warily, and peered over the side down into the murky, black water below.

“Shall we fish him out, sir?”

“I suppose we'll have to,” Jack grudgingly agreed. “Make sure you take your time. Before you do, Collins, radio in the local patch for more back-up, along with several ambulances.”

“You all right?” He managed to ask his partner who had already turned to head towards a container behind them. “Perhaps you should have a paramedic check you out once they arrive?”

“I’ll be fine, Jack,” she responded over her shoulder as she reached the large metal hold and began to fumble about herself as she fingered the lock. “I’d rather they be on hand for someone who might actually need medical aid.”

Jack eventually nodded his reluctant agreement before presenting Miss Fisher with her lost lockpick. She flashed him a grateful smile before quickly undoing the padlock and flinging it across the pathway and into the sea. Together, the investigators pulled open the doors, and began to help the young women outside, quickly undoing their gags and binds just as the sirens of multiple emergency vehicles sliced through the night.

“Thank you, Phryne,” a bruised and bedraggled Vanessa Greenwood managed to rasp out as her friend and colleague released her from the painful hold she had been tied in. “I knew you’d find us.”

“All thanks to you and your clever messages, Van,” Phryne gave her a friend a gentle embrace and then moved aside as a team of paramedics armed with stretchers and warm blankets rushed towards the group. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and then we’ll talk some more.”

"Here, Miss Fisher," Hugh materialized holding forth a tea flask with a slight dent in it. "Dottie sent this with us. Came in rather useful in more ways than one." He handed it to Phryne with a satisfied grin that she mirrored at the thought of one of the miscreants sporting a well-deserved bruise from Hugh's impromptu weapon. She quickly opened it, a welcomed burst of aromatic steam bursting out, and passed it to her friend who accepted it gratefully.

Once the young women were tended to, with the ones requiring more direct medical attention loaded into the ambulances, Jack again tried to convince Phryne to let one of the remaining paramedics check her out. She was about to again protest when the two of them were silenced by the pulsing air and overpowering roar of a government helicopter emblazoned with the Australian Border Force logo landing right on the dock nearby. Jack reluctantly let go of Miss Fisher’s hand, that he didn’t realise he was holding, to move towards it.

The inspector was certainly more than surprised to see ABF Commissioner Hall disembarking.

“Inspector! Excellent work, Jack!” He shouted over the noise of the chopper’s propellers.

“Sir! Good to see you here,” Jack shook his superior’s hand. “So you didn’t step down then?

“No, Jack, it was all part of the top brass’ strategy to draw out the bad apple within our ranks. Which you incidentally, were able to do without even realising it.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder in a gesture of proud commendation. “More about that later. Let’s continue our full debriefing at the local ABF office later.”

He then stretched out a hand towards Phryne. “And I would deeply appreciate it if you could also join the debriefing and give us your own full account, Miss Fisher.”

“Thank you, Commissioner,” she shook his hand with a small smile of exhaustion. “Maybe schedule it until after some of us who have been up all night have had a bit of beauty sleep?”

The commissioner guffawed and agreed. “Excellent suggestion, Miss Fisher. How about we reconvene at 1100 hours? Until then, Inspector, we must unfortunately go arrest the former deputy commissioner now,” the older man added grimly as Jack solemnly agreed.

“I’ll meet you there,” he told Phryne before squaring his shoulders and preparing to follow his commanding officer back through the warehouse.

“I’ll definitely be there,” she squeezed his hand in response, her eyes reassuring him that she would indeed be there. Especially for him. Unfortunately, Phryne knew all too well that Jack was facing one of the worst sorts of betrayal a person should never have to endure. One that was committed by a father figure.

“Thank you,” he murmured whilst time froze, as it often did, when he was staring into her mesmerizing, cobalt blue gaze in one of their timeless, unspoken dialogues.

“Besides, until the formal debriefing and case is finalised,” she winked at him with her customary cheekiness. “We’re still married, Archie.”

Then, in plain sight of the commissioner, Hugh, and a handful of other officers and other personnel buzzing about securing the crime scene, she grabbed Jack by the front of his leather jacket and pulled him closer so she could press her lips against his before letting him go.

*-*-*

“I’m Phryne Fisher, the civilian consultant working with Inspector Robinson and Commissioner Hall. I was invited to attend the debriefing taking place now.”

True to her teasing remark to Commissioner Hall, the activist had returned to their hotel after Hugh had dropped her off after the raid. But only for a quick shower and change of clothes before she had headed to the hospital with Dot and Jane. Jane was admitted for standard observation. Phryne had also checked in on her friend Vanessa who was more or less uninjured and mainly suffering from severe dehydration. She had remained there until she had to leave for the debriefing.

“One moment, please, ma’am,” responded the officer at the local ABF station’s reception desk. She picked up the desk phone and punched in a few numbers before waiting briefly, twirling a pen in her other hand. “Officer Wallington here from the front desk. There’s a Miss Fisher here for the debriefing with the Commissioner. Roger that, I’ll tell her.”

Officer Wallington hung up the receiver before explaining, “They’ll just be another minute or so, and I need to run your security clearance before we can admit you. So, if you could wait over there momentarily please, I’ll call you once we’re ready.”

Phryne thanked the officer, and made her way over to the small waiting area when another person entered the station, the newcomer’s designer heels angrily striking the tiled floor before she halted at the counter. Phryne quickly masked her surprise when she recognised the stylish figure of Ms Rosie Sanderson standing a few steps away. Rosie wasn’t quite as adept as hiding her shock when her sharp eyes widened at the sight of Miss Fisher sitting there in the station. Then, just as quickly, her features swept into an expression of horror and anguish as Rosie swivelled her attention somewhere behind Phryne’s shoulder. The humanitarian also turned and also immediately found her attention captured by the high-security door glass that revealed a handcuffed George Sanderson approaching. The door opened with an ominous buzz, and then the former deputy commissioner was being led straight through it, flanked by Inspector Jack Robinson and several very menacing-looking guards.

“I didn't know what Fletcher was up to, Rosie. I swear!” Sanderson immediately cried out when he spotted his daughter still rooted by the front counter. She rushed forward to the tableau stopping within a few inches of her father.

“Please, step away from the prisoner, ma’am,” one of the guards growled at her, but wisely held his tongue at Inspector Robinson’s searing look. Rosie barely registered them.

“How could you not know? Those poor girls!” She gasped out in disbelief.

“Please, please, try to understand,” the older man pleaded, holding out his cuffed hands towards her.

“How could you? How _could_ you? I can't look at you,” she turned away and began to sob openly. “Oh, God!”

The guards then continued to escort him outside the building and towards a chopper where he would be transferred to a high-security prison in either Melbourne or Canberra to await their eventual trial. Fletcher would join him soon as he was cleared of potential pneumonia as a result of his flesh wound and extended nocturnal swim.

Phryne remained frozen in place, not sure what to say or do at the tragic scene that had just unfolded before her, when Jack suddenly stepped towards his ex-wife and instinctively began to wrap his strong arms about her.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, bringing up a hand to cup the back of her head against his shoulder.

“Oh, don't…,” Rosie continued to cry, resisting his embrace until she couldn’t any longer. “Oh, Jack… Oh, no. Oh, God…”

“You’ve been cleared to go on through now to the debriefing room, Miss Fisher,” the front desk officer suddenly informed Phryne. “I’ll buzz you in.”

Phryne turned to woodenly nod at the police officer before forcing her feet to take her towards the door that George Sanderson had just emerged from to witness his daughter’s life shatter before her eyes. She sent one final glance towards the couple trying to cope with their mutual grief before the buzzer again sounded, and she slipped through soon as it opened.

*-*-*

Later that night, Jack paused outside the door of Royal Orchard Suite raking his hands through his hair before reaching for his hotel key that he had tucked into his wallet. He leaned his forehead against it tapping the edge of the plastic key card against his thigh, wishing he could see through the solid oak. It had been a gruelling day following the couple hours of debriefing.

Both he and Phryne had been asked to recount all the details of their investigation preceding, during and leading up to everything that had finally climaxed on the docks outside the SFFX warehouse. SFFX or “The Special Fletcher Effects” as this subsidiary of Sidney Fletcher’s shipping empire was known. As the play on words of the name suggested, it was a practically non-existent arm of the Fletcher business empire that he had created under the guise of shipping so-called personal and “special effects” in reference to his consumers’ particular “belongings.” To cover it up even more, the warehouse front sported actual studio and film equipment to throw off anyone wanting to take a closer look and assuming it was an independent studio venture.

What many hadn’t realised, however, was that several select buyers had begun to make requests that involved the use of SFFX’s movie equipment to “enhance” their detestable “purchases” of humans. Jane Ross had been part of an even more elaborate and highly demanded “shipment” that the traffickers sought high and low for amongst vulnerable groups such as refugee camps and other poverty-stricken locales. Unfortunately, Vanessa Greenwood had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and had also been taken when she tried to prevent the traffickers from abducting the girls she had remained to care for.

“And Fletcher and his henchmen made sure all the chosen girls were fair-skinned and wherever possible, light-haired, and so-called ‘virtuous.’ What's known in the trade as ‘White Gold,’” Phryne had spat out his name in utter contempt and disgust whilst the unspoken accusations against every evil soul that allowed this to happen nearly deafened everyone in the briefing room. Every officer in the room couldn’t bear to acknowledge the fact that one of their own had been willing to go so far in his blind ambition to look the other way.

Even now, Jack felt filthy by association as the pain of knowing someone he had trusted, respected, and called family for nearly half his life had protected those responsible and tried to cover it up. All for Sanderson’s own corrupted and egotistical gain.

Jack drew in a deep, steadying breath before resolutely sliding his key card into the door and entering the suite. It was quiet, which wasn’t surprising considering Jane was being kept in hospital along with the others for both health and security observations. Dorothy and Collins had booked into their own, less opulent room after Hall had readily agreed to Jack’s recommendation that the officer be granted several days of well-earned leave for his absolute bravery and loyalty. It was just as well really since there was only one person he wanted to see above any others, and he stopped upon spying her sleeping form sprawled on the sofa in the suite’s living room.

He simply stood there, seizing the moment to intrude upon this rare instant of seeing her so still. His eyes trailed from her messy hair, taking in the black silk robe with richly-embroidered flowers and what looked to be a peacock, down to her gorgeous, white limbs that revealed a few, slight bruises as a result of last night’s misadventure. Was it only last night, or early this morning? He’d had to remain at the station to finish typing up final statements and a myriad of other tasks that had kept him from leaving and retreating back here to this room.

He hadn’t even felt an iota of guilt for feeling this way after he had managed to calm Rosie down long enough to help his ex-wife transfer her things to another hotel that was well away from the one her (now former) fiance part-owned. She had insisted on doing so and booking a separate flight back to Melbourne after refusing to return on Fletcher’s private jet that had flown them into Port Moresby just last evening. Jack was certainly worried about Rosie since he would always care about her, but he also now knew beyond a doubt that his affections for the woman he had been married to for sixteen years could never encompass the depth of what he felt for this woman before him where his mind, heart, and perhaps, soul, if he believed in that, were firmly anchored

As though sensing him even in her sleep, Phryne suddenly opened her eyes. Her features immediately bloomed into delight at the sight of him before her. Seeing his intense, yet unreadable expression, she quickly muted her own and sat up slowly. The transition was not loss on Jack.

“Is it too late?” He asked her softly, a hint of uncertainty edging his tone. She looked into his eyes, and her heart skipped a traitorous beat when she realized he was asking about something else completely other than the timing of his appearance.

“Never!” She patted the spot next to her.

But, he chose to sit down on the coffee table across from her with his head in his hands before looking up at her, causing her sense of euphoria to plummet.

“I had to make sure she was OK…I’ve never seen her like that,” he began before she quickly spoke over him.

“You don’t have to explain. She needs you, Jack. She needs the man who always does the honourable thing.”

He looked up then, hearing the bravado in her tone and seeing through the stoic mask that she so badly tried to don. Then, without wasting another second, he reached out to cup her face, his lips tilting up slightly at the fact that he managed to surprise her.

“Not always, Miss Fisher,” he countered in an even lower register than usual, the sound melting any semblance of balance from her frame as he leaned forward and gently pulled her face towards his...

The sudden vibration and squawking of a telephone interrupted them, causing Jack to swear. Phryne tried not to laugh out loud at the sight of her normally controlled inspector coming undone, and not in the way she had often imagined.

“Aren’t we supposed to be on holiday, Mrs Jones?”

“Definitely, Archie!”

They both then silenced their infernal devices, which Jack then hid under the sofa.

“Shall we then, my dear?” He teased in a last poor attempt of resuming as Archie Jones.

Phryne again pulled on Jack’s leather jacket, this time, to slide it off his wide shoulders and push it to the floor. She then slowly pulled on the sash of her own robe and allowed it to slide down to her waist, revealing the fact that she wore nothing beneath it.

“We shall,” she smouldered at him, allowing her robe to drop completely to the floor, before sashaying through their bedroom door. “Why don’t we finally test out this luxury bed of ours?”

Jack Robinson kicked off his boots and wasted no time in obeying her sultry command.


	10. Epilogue

“Excuse me, Miss Fisher, I wanted to inform you that Inspector Robinson is just parking outside,” Mr Butler knocked on the open parlour door before popping his head around the corner. Phryne smiled at the older gentleman’s insistence on maintaining some of his formal training even despite her attempts to have him relax more. “Shall I bring in his drink and sandwiches on a tray, or do you think the inspector would prefer to sit in the dining room?”

“Thank you, Mr B, you’re an angel,” she beamed at him. “Here should be more than fine.” She had always known the kindly man had a soft spot for Jack, and loved how he was always more than willing to cater for the inspector’s every need.

From her vantage point on the window seat facing the Italianate mansion’s front end, Phryne admired Jack’s confident stride as he swung off his motorbike and made his way down the front pathway towards the entrance. It had been a month since they had returned from the Port Moresby case. The two of them had been busy working on the aftermath of their investigation. Jack was having more than his fill of follow-up enquiries, dealing with press conferences, and attending new committees being formed to scrutinize the ABF's legitimacy given the high-profile nature of the arrests that had taken place.

Alongside all this, Phryne kept teasing him about how the number of his followers on social media had skyrocketed in the wake of this latest incident. In fact, she had taken it upon herself to post a select photo or two she’d sneaked of him when he was unawares reassuring his fans that no, he wasn’t languishing away, and yes, he was more than coping well in the midst of being linked to yet another scandal. His popularity was soaring even more as speculation continued about his being linked to herself, which she was now relishing.

With Dot’s help, Phryne had completed and released her evaluation report to the humanitarian consortium, the Australian government as well as the press to reveal her findings. She had then been attending follow-up and introductory meetings with powerful policymakers who were finally willing to discuss the situation. In fact, as a result of this latest case, the government had already agreed to allow key staff like Vanessa to return to the detention centres and offer crucial services to the remaining refugees. As for the rest of the dire situation, well, that was an uphill battle that both she and Jack would continue to fight together a day at a time. Today, however, she had declared that she was taking a much-needed day off and had enjoyed doing absolutely nothing except planning some activities for herself and a certain inspector.

“Hello, Jack,” she greeted him happily, patting the seat next to her after Mr Butler had ushered him inside whilst juggling the tray bearing tantalizing treats that prompted the inspector’s stomach to grow. “Just in time for your lunch, darling.”

“Thank you, Mr Butler,” Jack tried not to blush at his belly’s betrayal as he joined her on the window seat and accepted the mug he was offered (after he claimed he didn’t want to accidentally break one of the dainty tea cups, Mr B had supplied this heartier one that still matched the set for the inspector’s sole use).

“Busy morning?” Phryne asked as she poured him some of the strong brew, left in for as long as possible, just the way he liked it.

“Yeah, sorry, the lawyers kept going and going until I eventually got fed up and said I was going for lunch,” he admitted after taking a bite of the appetizing ham and mustard pickle sandwich triangle. “Good thing I had taken along some of my secret stash of biscuits to keep me going until I could escape.”

“I’m surprised there are any left at the hours you’ve been keeping.”

“Indeed. Somehow, they keep magically replenishing lately,” he lifted a mock enquiring eyebrow. “Even though, I still have possession of the sole key to my desk drawers.”

“Imagine that,” she smoothly responded, stealing one of the aforementioned biscuits from his tray and taking a nibble as she watched him inhale his lunch. “Will you be in time for dinner tonight?”

“Yes, I hope to be,” he paused then with a sparkle in his eye. “In fact, you’ll have to ask Mr Butler to set the table for one more.”

“Oh?” She arched an elegant eyebrow, continuing to chew on the biscuit before reaching for one of his uneaten sandwich triangles. “And who’s coming to join us, if I might ask?”

“Well, you know how I had a word to my contacts in Immigration and then Welfare when we finished up the Greenwood case,” he paused to finish swallowing his own bit of sandwich. She reached out a hand to tenderly brush away a crumb from the corner of his lips whilst nodding and watching him expectantly. “They've finally agreed to expedite your application to sponsor Jane into the country, and then for you to foster her. I called in a few more favours so that she can be released into your custody today whilst the paperwork all goes through...ooomph!”

He suddenly found his arms full of a very grateful and excited Miss Fisher after she had launched herself at him in a joyful embrace.

“That’s beyond wonderful news, Jack!”

“You know it won’t be easy, taking in a refugee kid,” he wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her and prevent them both from toppling off the narrow window seat.

“Nothing that matters is easy!”

“Don’t I know it,” he gave a mock sigh as he flashed her his half-grin before ducking her playful swat.

“Now, hurry on back to the station so you can hurry on back home in time...with Jane!” Whilst battling with the bureaucracy to officially sponsor and foster Jane, Phryne had used her own influence to ensure the girl as well as several of the others who had been abducted were being cared for at a locally-based private facility with some of the country's top experts in paediatric post-traumatic rehabilitation. She and Dot had been visiting Jane and her friends regularly with updates as they all awaited the outcomes of their asylum claims that both Phryne and Jack had been attempting to expedite as quickly as possible.

His enthusiastic non-verbal response to her quip took her breath away and delayed him by another few minutes. She then straightened up his appearance before walking with him to the front hall, and giving him a final smack on the lips before shooing him out the door. He turned to give her one of his blink-and-miss-it winks before slipping on his helmet and hopping back onto his beloved vintage Harley that now shared a new home towards the end of the garage next to her restored Hispano-Suiza motorcar.

Home. Yes, now, it was _their_ home.

She still couldn’t believe he had accepted her invitation to move in with her shortly after they had returned to Melbourne courtesy of an ABF plane after spending a few extra days of leave themselves to ensure they made the most of the Royal Orchard suites. They had savoured the culmination of not just this most recent case, but what they had seemed to inevitably been building towards since the moment they had first met. After delightful days, and indeed delicious nights, of being with one another non-stop, she was only slightly surprised to find that she didn’t want to return home without him.

By the time they had landed at the ABF’s private hangar in Melbourne, however, she also knew that now they were back on their home turf, Jack might want to resume his previous careful and cautious approach to their relationship. Especially with the fevered madhouse of publicity that the Sanderson and Fletcher case had reached in the media. Even poor Rosie had opted to escape to her sister’s in London in order to dodge the worst of it until things had died down. At least over in the UK, she had emailed to tell Jack, she could afford some level of anonymity.

As their bags were being unloaded and Phryne had been grappling with this inner dialogue she had wandered off until her attention had been captured by a sudden blaze of lights streaking across the night sky.

“Looks like we’re just in time for the Geminid meteor shower,” Jack had remarked as he quietly appeared at her side by the hangar’s opening. “It’s been visible to the earth for nearly 200 years now.”

“It’s incredible,” she had breathed in with awe during a rare moment of speechlessness. “Nearly indescribable. It’s so, so….”

“Magnificent?” he had suggested before turning to gaze down at her fondly. “Or brazen? After all, they are basically rocks from the other realms of the universe that have discovered a flair for audacity. It’s all that dramatic bursting once they’ve hit our atmosphere. I’ve always secretly envied stars and comets for all their fanfare. You know, explosive fire balls and brilliant trails of stardust. Rather a bit like someone I know.”

“Sounds like someone worth knowing.” She had slipped her arms around his waist without realising it until she felt his arms respond in kind.

“Definitely.” He was then met with an ardent response from her lips of the non-auditory persuasion.

She then looked up at him earnestly. “Come home with me, Jack?”

“Are you sure, Miss Fisher?” 

“More than anything!”

The memory of his response warmed her up along with the continuation of what followed once he had indeed come home with her. Followed by both the ordinary and extraordinary moments of each night and day after that until she had presented him with his very own key. It only made sense to have him become part of her home after he had woven himself so seamlessly, yet intricately into her life and heart.

Even so, she could still recall that terrifying moment when icy fear had slipped a tiny shard into the giddy moment when she had blurted out her invitation just after they had finished brunch one lazy Saturday. The moment had felt so right as they had shared some kumquat marmalade toast in her bed.

"Move in with me, Jack."

The unexpected statement caused the unsuspecting inspector to swallow whole the crust he had just stolen back from her. He coughed it down, but otherwise had simply stared at her without saying a single word. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but the prolonged silence and the fact she couldn't read his expression had Phryne inwardly flinching against the raw vulnerability she had learned to master and hide so well.

"What did you say?" He had then responded, his tone slightly disbelieving and his features still not shifting.

But then, as they continued to assess their unspoken thoughts, she quickly spied the minute twinkle emerging in the hidden corner of his beautiful eyes. He tilted his head then and reminiscent of their night at the theatre, gently nudged his hand beneath her chin as though he were caressing the world's most precious jewel so he could gaze fully into her face. In that moment, Phryne undoubtedly felt the affirmation that he knew she sought, that gentle, yet powerful reminder that she and her heart would always be protected and secure wherever he was concerned. 

"It was a romantic overture," her own eyes began to reflect the growing sparkles now spilling out of his as he outwardly grinned at her, slipping a playful arm about her waist.

"Say it again."

"Move in with me, Jack Robinson."

With a happy sigh, Phryne closed the front door and leaned against it dreamily. Suddenly, the sound of the back door banging open followed by loud greetings announcing the arrival of Bert and Cec for lunch roused her from her delicious reverie. She quickly righted herself and then began to make a dash towards the kitchen.

They had another room and extra key to make up after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My final prompt was “From rags to riches (or vice versa)”, which was slightly alluded to given Jane’s situation changing from being an asylum seeker to becoming Miss Fisher’s foster daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are familiar with my stories, I am a stickler for factual authenticity wherever possible with my writing. Thus, I based our beloved characters in this contemporary version by giving them modern careers like Jack joining the real life Australian Border Force that was newly formed in 2015 ([more info here including their ranks](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_Border_Force)). Also, some of you may know that my real life career is in the humanitarian and development sector, so I’ve based my modern Phryne’s experiences on this. 
> 
> Finally, and tragically, I wanted to bring awareness to the all-too real struggles of the Syrian refugees in my fic. As our characters are based in Oz, much of the facts I’ve drawn from come from the current struggles the Australian government has been facing to handle the increasing number of asylum seekers arriving to its shores. I’m not trying to use this as a “bullhorn from a pulpit” to make anyone feel guilty or to be purposefully controversial. My aim is to bring awareness about this very real social justice issue that I believe Phryne and Jack would do what they could to fight if they lived in our current time.  
> [For more info about Australia’s refugee crisis, visit this link.](http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-28189608)
> 
> \------------------------
> 
> Massive hugs are owed to the amazing @OllyJay for giving me the starting boost and initial, wonderful idea for this ficathon story. She encouraged me to try writing Phrack in a modern AU setting with a human rights and humanitarian twist. Hope I did it justice.
> 
> Also, much love as always to the incomparable @ComeAfterMeJackRobinson for taking the time to review my draft, ensuring I kept my version of these two idiots in character, and cheering me on whenever writer’s doubt crept in!


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